Never Alone
by StarWarrior72
Summary: Vader is more annoyed than anything else when Palpatine makes the unexpected choice to give him a slave. He resolves to ignore the boy, but finds it harder and harder.
1. Chapter 1

Vader watched in irritation as the young slave sat down on the floor, watching the galaxy with such wonder in his eyes. What gave him the right to be so amazed by the galaxy? It had been awful to him.

Why had Palpatine given him the stupid, worthless boy? He had never asked for a slave. He'd never had any interest in owning slaves. He was opposed to it, even. And yet, _something_ had moved his master to purchase the boy for Vader. Goodwill had probably not factored into the equation.

Vader kicked the boy out of his way. The boy leapt out of his way, moving to his feet with undeniably impressive speed. Vader stared a moment at the boy. He was shaking frantically.

"From now on, boy, I hope you will be smart enough to get out of my way."

The boy nodded tremulously. Vader sneered down at him, determined not to let the little brat get in his way. Just because the boy had no choice wasn't any reason that Vader should let him become at home in his castle. Just because the worthless scum would blow up if he left didn't mean Vader had to tolerate his presence.

"Get out of my sight. Come back only when I wish to torture you. And come promptly, or I will make it much worse for you. There is only one bed in the house and it is mine. You may make your accommodations anywhere I won't have your presence imposed upon me."

The emaciated child leapt to his feet and ran from the room. Vader watched him go with a great feeling of triumph. Hopefully, that worthless boy would be out of his way forever. With any luck, the boy might be dead within the week. Perhaps he would starve as he never thought to return to the kitchen to get food. Perhaps he would see that he was unwanted and run past how far he could survive in order to end it quickly. Perhaps he would find a way to survive in the huge network of passages and halls and simply choose not to return to Vader to be tortured.

But soon enough, he sensed the young man's eyes on him once more. Looking around the corner, he saw the young man looking at him with huge eyes. There was reverence in his gaze, and Vader wondered what he'd done to deserve it.

He stood up, walking to where the boy lay, curled against a corner in his home. When he saw Vader coming, he looked up, but Vader was surprised when he didn't leap to his feet and run again.

"Why are you watching me, worthless boy?" Vader snarled at the child.

"I'm not sure. I haven't been allowed near people my whole life," he explained, looking up into Vader's face. Vader sincerely hoped that it was yellow showing in his eyes, and not his natural blue.

"You're not allowed near me now. I thought I made myself clear." Vader yanked the child to his feet via the collar of his shirt. "Get out of my sight this instant!" He gave the boy a hard shake and threw him to the floor.

The boy looked up at him once more, "Please may I stay? I've never been this close to another being before. I like it. I feel a bit safer here."

"Well, let's see if torture helps you lose that delusion!" Vader snarled, grabbing the boy's collar again. He threw the boy against the wall, watching the boy's hands fly up in an attempt to cover his head to protect it from the impact. It failed. The boy let out a helpless cry, and Vader watched as he fell back to the floor.

"Do you see now?" He growled.

The boy on the floor looked up at him, trying to stem a flow of blood from his nose. "Please, Sir. I just want to be safe near you."

Vader laughed and scooped the boy back up. "I am not your protector. I don't know why you were given to me, but I never wanted a slave. So I don't care if this kills you. Think of it this way, if you learn fast enough you might be able to survive. This is a nice enough home. Keep your space clean, and I won't begrudge you the right to lose. I don't care that you're a slave. I would treat you just the same if you were free. In fact, think of yourself as lucky that I care for your life at all, because it's all that's keeping me from throwing you across the boundary. I'll give you a sporting chance, worthless. Now run. And never let me catch you again."

He threw the boy down the hall and watched as the boy ran. Then he returned to where he had been sitting. He took his seat again and returned to his daydream of having his wife by his side. Their child would have been about his 'slave's age.

What would their child have been like? Would he have been like Anakin? Or Padme? Or, would, in fact, he have been like Vader? And which would Vader have preferred? _Not like me,_ he thought. _I wouldn't want my child to be as hurt and jaded as I have been. I would want him to be… to be, perfect. I would just want him to be able to be a child. I would want him to have Padme's personality, only more carefree. More childish. Innocent, like neither one of us really got the chance to be._

Again, he sensed the slave hiding behind the doorframe. He stormed back to the boy, yanking the boy to his feet and holding him high against the wall. "Idiot boy! Why do you keep returning! Why do you not learn?"

Vader yanked the boy forward and hit his head on the wall again. "Stupid, worthless, idiot boy! Why must you continually run back to me? All I ask of the galaxy is some space at home! Why did my master give you to me so that I couldn't avoid your presence? Why couldn't I just be allowed peace at one time?"

He punched the boy's face as hard as he could. The boy's nose began to bleed again, small form shaking.

"Please, just let me be near you. Please. I swear, I won't get in your way. You won't even notice I'm here! Please! It's just so good-so comforting to finally be with another person! Please, the only things I've ever known are torture droids! It would be so nice to finally have a friend," The boy's hands held Vader's wrists tightly in his small, fragile seeming hands.

Vader tore one of the boy's hands from his wrist, but as soon as he moved onto the second one, the first reattached itself.

"Please! All I've ever known!" the boy was crying, clinging desperately to Vader's gloves.

"I don't care what you've known! Why would I want to care for you!"

"I thought-I mean, I just hoped-I hoped that the galaxy would finally let me have something. Most kids want some stupid, expensive toy! All I want is to be cared about! Please, just once in my life!" The boy released Vader's wrists and reached for Vader's torso, as if he was asking for a hug.

Vader threw him. The instant the slave had released his wrists, the decision had been made. He took a great swing and threw the boy down the hallway. Further down, the thin boy crumpled to the floor, his body shaking as he sobbed into the floor.

Vader returned to where he had been sitting, and prayed that the boy wouldn't interrupt him again.


	2. Chapter 2

When Vader came down the stairs from his chamber the next day, he was surprised to find the entire kitchen sparkling clean, a dish of rolls on the counter. Next to the dish was a note. _I found a book full of instructions on making food. I didn't know what else to do, so I made these for you. I cleaned up afterwards too. Please don't be angry, I don't know what else to do with myself._

Vader stared at the note a moment longer, wondering how the slave boy had even learned to write, before taking a roll. Feeling a tiny bit warmer to the slave, he started down a hall to his hanger. His master had given him some time off as an additional 'gift' with the slave. At least one of those could be made use of.

When he entered, there was something amiss. He couldn't quite put his finger on it until he noticed a soft tune issuing from one of his ships.

_He chose here? What made him choose here for his home?_ Vader thought, searching for the sound. To his surprise, the boy wasn't curled up on one of the Empire issue luxury seats, but happily polishing an ancient junker. As Vader approached, the hum became a series of nonsense sounds.

He walked up behind the boy as stealthily as he could before snarling, "What do you think you're doing?"

The slave leapt, then spun to face him. Immediately, he shrank back against the ship.

"I asked you what you're doing!"

The boy's hands began to shake, "I was just cleaning up a little more. If I'm going to spend my whole life here, I thought I might as well work on making it tidy. I mean, not that you do a bad job of that. I just thought I might as well make it beautiful, like my old home never was."

Vader reluctantly accepted that the boy's idea was one he could easily live with. "You may continue to do that, but I never want to find you in here again. This is the one room I don't want you ever entering again."

The boy nodded vigorously, "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry." With a final little bow, the child turned and started to walk away.

"Wait!" Vader called after him.

The boy stopped, looking back, confused. "Yes?"

"How did you learn to write?" Vader asked. He didn't want to gratify the boy by asking questions that implied that he'd done something impressive, but he couldn't resist. How had a tortured child who was never allowed near humans learned to write?

But, to Vader's surprise, the child, looked at his feet, and his voice softened and became frightened. "It was the graffiti on the walls."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"The torture droids always mocked me. They would play clips of happy families and other wonderful things and remind me how I would never have that. How I would never be loved. And then they would torture me physically and leave. That was how I learned to speak. Then there was the graffiti other prisoners had left on the walls. I learned which form of hurting applied to which word. Then I learned the sounds. I was moved to a cell once where someone had scratched most of their life into the floor, and I learned to really read from that."

"None of that would give you the knowledge required to read a recipe."

"I just searched the kitchen until I found the right series of letters on an ingredient." The slave explained softly.

Vader resisted an urge to compliment the boy, and shoved him off in the direction of the exit to the hanger. "Go. And run this time."

The boy ran off, as he had been told.

Vader turned his attention to the now-sparkling ship. He decided that, as long as it was clean, he might as well finish his work on it and treat it against rust. As he worked, he found himself singing softly, as the boy had done.

Where had he learned to sing? How had such a badly hurt child learned such a happy sound? He thought it must have been the clips the droids had showed him. Perhaps they had showed him choirs. Perhaps family holidays. Maybe even parents attending a child's school concert. There were many things that involved music that they could have honestly said he would never have.

He wondered what had given the boy the idea to clean. Of all the things he could have done with his time, he had chosen cleaning. Most slaves, left to their own devices, would have tried to make life harder for their masters, not easier. Yet, that had been the boy's thought. He had wanted beauty in his life.

Suddenly it occurred to Vader that every word in the boy's vocabulary must have been derived from his torture. The kind words would have been in the clips, and Vader was certain that the droids had been happy to teach him their reverse forms. A clip telling a hurting child that they were beautiful would have undoubtedly led to the slave being called hideous. Someone being told they were loved would have caused the boy to be told he was hated. But what had the opposite of family been?

At last, Vader pushed the engine block back into the ship, closing it up. He stood back, then walked around it, taking it in from every angle. It certainly looked much better now. Then he got into the driver's seat and gunned the engines. They gave a satisfying roar and it lifted.

Vader flew it to another hanger. He loved fixing the ships, it reminded him of better times, when he wouldn't have been able to fix them any other way, but he had nothing to do with them afterwards. He would have happily sold them, but he knew his master would say that it was unbecoming for a Sith to be selling second hand vessels. So a pileup of repaired ships gathered in a series of hangers across his castle.

He walked back to the kitchen, looking for another roll and found the young slave sitting silently at the table, nibbling on a roll. Vader took another for himself and snarled at the child to run.

Obediently, the boy leapt to his feet and took off. Vader watched him go before sitting down to eat. In a way, he wished he hadn't chased the boy off. He did get lonely occasionally, of course. But if he allowed the boy the luxury of communication, he would want to continue to be awarded it at all times. No, the only right course of action was to chase the boy away. If he was consistent with the boy, perhaps the child would eventually learn.

However, he sensed the boy's eyes on him again, and turned to see the child leaning around a corner from where he sat on the floor, and knew that the boy would take longer to learn his lesson.

"I thought I explained to you not to be near me."

The boy didn't bother to defend himself.

"You may consider yesterday as your warning," Vader said, lifting the boy off the ground. "I told you not to come near me, but we have met twice already today. It's barely noon." He started to beat the child. "I hope, for your sake, that we do not encounter one another again."

The slave nodded tremulously. "Please let me go. I promise, I'll leave you alone."

"Not so fast, idiot boy. Did it ever occur to you that I don't want you?"

"You said so yesterday," the boy moaned.

Vader threw the boy to the floor, where he landed on his knees, shaking.

"Don't interrupt me when I'm speaking!" He shouted at the boy.

The slave nodded silently.

"Idiot, worthless, pathetic-"

"Luke," the boy interrupted.

Vader was too surprised to take the opportunity to drive home his last point about interrupting. He looked down at the boy. "What was that?" He snapped.

"Please call me Luke."

"Why?"

"It's my name."

"Nonsense, you've never been allowed near another human, you said so yourself."

"They couldn't help that I was born to someone. It's the kindest thing I remember. The only word I ever knew her to speak."

"What are you talking about, idiot boy?" Vader snarled.

"Luke. Please, call me Luke. My mother gave me my name just before the Empire came."

"You claim to remember your birth?" Vader asked, torn between laughter and anger that the boy was brave enough to speak.

"I remember my mother saying my name. I don't remember seeing anything. I only remember her naming me, and then-" he faltered, "Then I remember the screaming starting."

Vader stared at the boy. Could he really, genuinely remember his birth? Or was all this the creation of a tortured mind? Had one of the clips the droids had showed him early on involved a mother naming her newborn son? And, in a galaxy consumed by pain and loneliness, had the boy latched onto the thought of being the one who had been named in the clip?

"I can just barely remember her hand on my face. All my life, it's been the closest I've ever come to being safe in one of the family clips. I don't know why I can't see anything when I close my eyes and think about it. All I know is her voice naming me. Then she starts to scream and cry. Then I'm torn from the arms of whoever held me, and after that… that's when the torture began."

Vader was appalled at the thought of anyone torturing a newborn baby, but he knew that it was something his master might well have done. He saw the frightened, crying child kneeling before him and thought that it wasn't unlikely, from the way he acted, that torture literally had been his entire life.

"Go, boy. Go back to whatever rat's nest you've made yourself. I'll leave you alone for the rest of the day."

The boy started to stand up, then stumbled. Vader noticed that one of his ankles was twisted. It had probably happened when Vader threw him down. Then Luke began to limp away, deep into the unused chambers of the castle.


	3. Chapter 3

Slowly, Vader grew used to waking in the mornings to find a room sparkling clean and fresh food on the table or counter. He noticed Luke learning to avoid him. Finally, there came a time when called the boy out for torture only when he was furious, and needed to cause pain to somebody.

He had had a bad week. Each day, he had called Luke out for torture. Each day, he had found it a little easier to hear the boy scream. And so, storming up to his room after the worst day yet, he was afraid to torture Luke because he felt that the pain he needed to inflict would kill the fragile child.

Luke had gained some strength since Vader had been forced to accept him. Though, because of his boundaries, he had kept a shy, pale appearance. But as he lived near Vader, he had wanted to do more and more for the man, finally asking, in the middle of a torture session, if they could re-negotiate the boundaries so that he could do the shopping for the household.

He had presented enough good reasons that it should be allowed that both Vader and the Emperor had been convinced. Palpatine had reluctantly allowed the boy a range that encompassed a small market.

Vader had forced Luke to climb up to a balcony and sit there for a few hours so as to look a little less pale when he was allowed out of the building. Then he had given the boy money for groceries, and sent the boy off.

A few hours later, Luke had returned with his arms full of bags of groceries and a smile on his face. Vader hadn't been able to bring himself to torture the boy. He had been allowed to fulfil what the Empire had taught him should be a dream, and Vader couldn't help wanting him to treasure the memory.

Today, Vader had no such good intentions. He wouldn't torture the boy now, when the risk of his anger taking over and killing the boy was so great, but tomorrow, the agony would never fade from the boy's mind and body.

He marched into his room, wanting simply to throw himself down on his bed and sleep. But there was already someone sitting on his bed. There, when Vader least wanted to see him, sat Luke. The boy had tears on his face. He was holding one of the photos of Padme that Vader had managed to find, but as he realized that Vader had entered, he shook so violently that the frame fell from his trembling hands and the glass smashed on the floor.

"No," the boy gasped softly, already reaching down to the frame, lifting it up, taking in the damage. As the glass had smashed, it had slit the photo.

Looking up at Vader, Luke started to shake harder. "I didn't mean to. Please, don't be angry." His voice was plaintive, desperate.

Vader couldn't bring himself to answer. His vision was blurring, the helpless, tear-streaked face all that maintained its focus. He moved forwards like a sleepwalker, needing to hurt the boy for having broken one of his few precious possessions. Already, Luke was curling up, trying to protect himself. Vader laughed darkly at the boy, and he saw the child's hands ball into fists, already preparing the boy for pain.

"Don't worry, boy. I'm not going to torture you."

He watched as the boy's expression became one of disbelief, then hope, "Thank you. I'll clean it up and try to fix the picture, I promise."

Again, Vader laughed, "I'm not going to torture you now. If I did that, I would kill you. No, I'll torture you tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that. Just like your life has always been, you'll die when the pain finally overwhelms you. Don't expect to be allowed food again either. Don't take food from the kitchen. I'll know if you do. I can sense if you do."

The boy had begun to shake again.

"And you will certainly clean that up, but I wouldn't allow you to hold that photo again. Give it to me now."

Luke held out the image with one trembling hand.

"I don't wish to think about what you were doing with a photo of her. If your sick, twisted little mind fell in love with her, then it's only fair to tell you she's dead. Now clean up your mess before I decide you should do it with your tongue!"

He watched with some satisfaction as the boy moved to his hands and knees, brushing the sharp shards together. As the boy lifted one hand to start to gather the pieces to move to the garbage, Vader gave a hard blow to his back, and Luke's hands caught him, driving the shards deep into his palms. He gasped, but didn't cry out as he brushed the rest of the shards into a pile and carried them out of the room.

When the boy was gone, Vader sat on the edge of his bed and looked at the photo of his wife. The glass had entered the backdrop of the photo, he was glad to note, and her face smiled up at him, undamaged. He took some tape from a drawer at his desk and carefully closed the gaping hole in the photo before placing it back on his bedside table, resolving to buy some new glass for it.

Then he lay back in bed, resting his head on the pillows and wondering absently where the boy had run off to. Where had he decided to sit and yank the glass from his skin, one agonizing shard at a time?

He closed his eyes and fell asleep imagining the boy's pain.


	4. Chapter 4

Vader was astonished at how quickly Luke lost all the weight he'd gained. While the boy had looked fairly healthy when he banned food, within a week he looked even weaker and more starved than when he'd first arrived.

To Vader's surprise, Luke had continued to make his meals and leave them on the counter. But he sensed that the child didn't even try to eat. And whenever he neared the boy, he could hear the steady sound of his stomach growling.

And so it was that when Vader entered the kitchen on the fifth day, Luke was standing at the counter looking through the closet and making a shopping list.

"Don't be any dumber than you can avoid, boy. You can't go shopping in your condition." Vader told the boy.

The boy looked up from his list, and Vader was struck anew by how pale and thin he was. "But it's my job to do the shopping."

"Consider yourself excused."

Luke turned back down to his list, "But-"

"No."

"How will you get your groceries?"

"I will have them brought to me, just as I did before you were given to me."

Luke reached for the shopping bag on the counter beside him, "I'll do it."

"No, you won't. Put that down."

Luke's fist tightened, "But- I love the market. Can't it please stay my job?"

"No. The vendors will figure out what's happening. Until I decide to allow you to eat again, your range will be decreased to the castle."

"But," Luke said, clinging all the tighter to the shopping bag. "Slaves are supposed to be useful. All I'm good for is shopping and cleaning."

"That's another thing. I don't want you cleaning. You're too weak. You should be resting."

"But," Luke said again, "But then I won't be any good to you at all!"

"You're no use to me anyway. Go back to your rat hole!"

Vader saw the tears start to run down Luke's cheeks. "Please. It's so wonderful to be able to leave. I need to be able to go. If I can't, I'll go crazy."

"You already are crazy, boy. You're not going out there." Vader snatched the bag from the boy's hands. He reached for the list as well, but Luke crumpled it, holding on as tightly as he could.

"Let go!" Vader shouted, slapping him.

Instantly, the boy's hand released the paper. Before Vader could do anything more, the boy was running away, racing for whatever space he had chosen for himself. Vader followed him out into the hall and watched as the thin body sprawled on the floor. The boy picked himself back up and kept running.

Vader told himself not to question it. He told himself that it was just because Luke was afraid and starved that he had reacted so strongly. He tried to make himself believe that that was all that had made being banned from work hard for him.

At last, he made himself a bowl of cereal and sat down to eat. Suddenly, he sensed something he hadn't since early in the boy's stay. He felt the boy watching him. When he turned to see the boy, a pair of blue eyes peeked past the doorframe, watching Vader silently.

"Get on, boy! You know you're not supposed to be there!"

The eyes retreated. Vader continued eating, then moved to the hanger. As promised, the slave never entered that room. Vader supposed that meant that he had taught that lesson better and hoped it wouldn't have evaporated with the others. He was glad to be able to get in a fair deal of work before he decided to go and get some lunch.

As he walked out of the hanger, he nearly tripped over Luke. The boy had apparently come and sat down at the door. Vader was forcibly reminded that without his trips to the market, he was the only person Luke was allowed near.

"I shouldn't have let you go to the market at all. You've grown spoiled."

Luke nodded silently, but didn't move.

"Go on back to your space!"

The child gave a quick shake, but didn't move.

"Can't you hear me, idiot boy? Go!"

"I don't want to. I need to stay near you. Please, you've been so kind to me all this time, just let me stay near you."

"No. Go on back to bed. Go." Vader nudged the boy to his feet.

Luke stood still, shivering, "I don't have a bed to go to."

Vader felt his anger rising again, "You know what I mean. Go. I don't want to see you again today."

"But," Luke faltered.

"Go! Move!" Vader slapped the boy. The child turned and started to walk away, head hanging. He was the image dejection. Vader told himself that was the way it was supposed to be and ignored the image of his shaking shoulders.

Finally, he decided to follow the boy, curious where he might have chosen. But the boy didn't lead him back to a scrappy, but comfortable, pile of dirty blankets. He led Vader to a 'fresher as clean and uncluttered as the rest of the castle. There was only one thing to show that it was where Luke made his home.

The walls were covered in graffiti. Vader tried to tell himself that Luke was just trying to imitate the cells he had previously been held in so as not to get homesick, but the graffiti all seemed genuine. It was written in red, which Vader could only assume was blood.

As he watched silently, the young man climbed up on the lip of the bathtub and rolled up one sleeve, revealing a large patch of absent skin. Dipping his fingers in the wound, he started to write something new above the rest. What the boy wrote had been copied all over the walls: _He doesn't care._

Still other hopeless messages mingled with that one, but Vader was fairly certain that it was most common, followed by:_ He hates me._

_He forgets me_. Vader remembered once forgetting to call Luke for torture because he had simply been too furious to think of the possibility of torturing him.

_He abandoned me._ Was that how Luke felt when Vader had to go on missions?

_He doesn't want me._

_He's going to let me die._

_I should kill myself._

Vader turned and left, hoping the boy hadn't noticed him. He wondered if the boy would continue to write on the walls, or if he would curl up on the floor and go to sleep, as would be the most intelligent course of action.

He was immeasurably shaken by the fear and pain that engulfed the boy's space. Could the boy ever feel safe? And, if Vader was causing him such pain, but he'd said that he'd been kind, what had his torturers done to him?


	5. Chapter 5

For several days, Vader continually found the boy making himself at home in Vader's castle. He would enter a living space to sit down and skim a report, and Luke would be asleep on the sofa. Or perhaps he would enter a study and find the boy surreptitiously skimming a datapad. It seemed to Vader that he was trying to recreate one of the clips he had been shown by making Vader his family, whether the Sith wanted him or not.

He had quickly started to shout at the boy whenever he accessed one of the 'pads. Now the child rarely bothered to turn one on, knowing the response he would get. But still, Vader sensed the boy's desperate quest for knowledge.

So it was that one day he had been forced into meeting with the leaders of a planet that was leaning towards joining the Alliance, and Luke accidentally dropped into the room.

The planet that the couple had come from reminded Vader of Naboo in many ways. It was quite obsessed with its youth and family ties. He had known that there would be trouble if the boy were to find his way to them, so he had tried to convince the boy not to come down by torturing him until he was unconscious the day before.

Yet, something in the boy's unfathomable brain still brought him back to Vader.

The moment the rulers saw Luke, Vader knew it was over. There was nothing in the galaxy that could have offended them more.

He found himself reaching for his lightsaber, but the boy spoke. His face was pale and spooked, but he took a tight hold on his breath and spoke.

"Hello."

The man leapt to his feet, running to the boy as if to take him and comfort him, and Luke pulled back.

"Please, don't."

"What has he done to you, child?" the man asked worriedly, taking Luke's arm and guiding him to a chair at the table.

Luke looked away, down at the floor. "Nothing."

"That's clearly not true. You haven't been fed in weeks, have you?"

Vader knew the boy would give up now, he knew that the boy would understand that it was hopeless.

To Vader's surprise, Luke blushed, "I'm anorexic."

He was lying, wasn't he? On the other hand, Vader hadn't seen the boy eat very often. Was he really more comfortable when he hadn't eaten?

The man looked concerned, but he nodded, "I see. Why didn't you come downstairs earlier? Why didn't he speak of you?"

Luke started to scoot back in his chair, trying to put space between himself and the man. "I'm just shy. I didn't really want him to mention me."

"Why are you living here?"

"He's my father," the boy said, and the answer seemed incredibly natural. Vader was impressed at the boy's skill for lying. "He tries to get me to eat, he really does. It's just hard for both of us when I don't want to. He thought it would be best if we didn't try to communicate it, because sometimes it scares people. So I just said I'd stay out of the way."

To Vader's immense surprise and relief, the man nodded understandingly.

"Well, stay with us and see if you don't feel like eating something." He offered kindly.

Luke looked up at Vader, silently asking for permission. Vader silently cursed him for allowing this first breach to his spotless performance. He nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging way.

The man sat down, and Luke seemed happy to sit at the table, not eating, though Vader could feel the boy's pain as his stomach tried to communicate its need for food to his brain.

Vader tried his very hardest to negotiate over the meal, while Luke sat and watched happily, clearly glad to be near people again. When Vader had made his best attempt, Luke surprised him again by gently butting into the conversation to tell them what a wonderful father Vader was. Vader couldn't help but wonder why the boy was so willing to lie for him, but he wasn't about to argue.

At last, the woman started to spoon some food onto the plate in front of Luke, encouraging him to eat.

Luke pushed the plate away with a smile, "No, thanks. I'm not very hungry right now anyway."

"You're obviously not healthy. Would your father want you to get sick?"

Luke just smiled, standing and walking around the table to take a seat next to Vader and press up against his side. "Of course Father doesn't want me to get ill. He knows how to make sure I don't get sick too much, though. Honest, I'll be fine."

Torn between anger at the easy way the boy invaded his personal space, and a little sliver of admiration of his willingness to push aside his own needs, Vader put his arm around the child. The boy looked up at him and gave a fantastically radiant smile before grinning at the rulers again.

"My father would be really helpful with ruling your planet. He's a great dad, and I bet that would be a good indicator of whether he'd be a good leader."

"Luke, you must have got your anorexia from somewhere. Did he scare you about your weight when you were younger?"

A flicker of fear crossed the boy's face, and as Vader was about to start inwardly cursing the boy again, he said softly, "I didn't live with my father when I was younger. I-I was kidnapped when I was tiny, and they kept me prisoner and tortured me. It-it was the most awful-" And he broke off in a sob, spinning around and burying his face against Vader.

Vader allowed his body to complete the actions his instincts told him to follow with the hurting boy. He took the child close in his arms and rubbed his back, comforting him in the most genuine way he knew. This must have been what the child longed to do. He must have wanted desperately to throw himself into the arms of someone who would care for him. Vader only hoped that the child wouldn't expect to be indulged like this again.

Lying against Vader's chest, Luke sobbed, shaking like a leaf in a breeze, and apparently unable to pull himself together again enough to face their guests.

"Luke, sit up."

In his arms, Luke pulled himself upright as though he was a marionette.

"Everything's going to be okay, you know that."

Luke hiccupped loudly, then answered. "Yeah, I know."

"Everything will look better when you wake up tomorrow."

"M-hm." Luke nodded, wiping tears from his face.

The woman passed the plate she had prepared for Luke back across the table. "Take a few bites, at least. I promise you it'll make you feel better."

Luke gave another hiccup and looked doubtfully at the food. Then, hands still shaking, he took a couple of pieces of vegetable off his plate and ate them. Vader felt a flare of anger as the boy disobeyed him again. The boy suddenly made a terrible choking sound and leapt to his feet. Vader stood too; whacking the boy's back, forcing him to cough out whatever had been stuck. As a piece of food fell back onto his plate, the boy turned a terribly dark shade of red and ran, crying, from the room.

So as not to ruin the boy's performance, Vader ran after him. He caught the boy in the hall and stopped him.

"You understand what you just did, don't you?"

Luke looked at him through blood-shot eyes, "Yeah."

"You were helpful, I won't deny that, but you've eaten when I've told you not to, and come downstairs when you shouldn't have. I'll deal with you when I'm done."

Vader returned to the table, and hurried through finishing convincing his visitors that the Empire meant their planet's values no harm before gently shooing them away, saying he needed to tend to his son.

Walking up the stairs to where Luke would be waiting in his 'fresher, he thought that he had become too easy on the boy. He needed to remind himself of how little the boy was worth, or risk feeling obliged to care for the boy.

He entered the 'fresher and found the child asleep in the bathtub, curled up in a little ball so as to fit properly. His thin body shivered, but he had clearly made no attempt to get himself any blankets to warm himself with.

Vader pulled the child out of the bathtub, shaking him awake.

"Mm? Father?" the boy asked.

"Wake up, idiot boy." Vader snarled, slapping him.

Luke opened his eyes weakly and blinked at Vader. "What's happening?"

"You ate when you weren't supposed to. I'm just going to make it like that never happened." Vader told Luke, dragging the boy to the toilet and holding the small head over it. Then he fought to make the boy vomit, finally succeeding and releasing the child.

Luke clutched at the rim of the bowl, continuing vomiting for far longer than Vader had expected him to, malnourished as he was. When the last dribble had trickled over Luke's chin, the boy fell against the wall, panting softly.

"From now on, I don't want you eating without my permission, do you understand?"

Weakly, Luke nodded before dragging himself into the tub again and curling back up, coughing dejectedly.

Vader stood and left the boy's 'fresher. He had done only what the boy deserved, he told himself. He had simply made it as if the day hadn't happened. There was nothing wrong with that, was there? Why, he hadn't even tortured the boy.


	6. Chapter 6

Vader had had another bad day. He stormed into his home and shouted for the boy. Who was going to care if the boy died? Only Luke, himself, and the Emperor even really knew the boy existed! Palpatine wouldn't care if Vader removed one more slave from the galaxy, and Luke didn't deserve a say in the matter.

To his surprise, the usually obedient child didn't come running. In fact, even after he had stood there, shouting himself hoarse for five minutes, the child still didn't come. Finally, he stormed towards the boy's 'fresher, angrier than ever.

He slammed the door open, expecting to see the space empty, as the boy should have been smart enough to run and hide elsewhere. To his surprise, Luke was still lying in the tub, shaking as he approached. The boy was panting, sweat trickling down his face.

"Why didn't you come, idiot boy?" Vader snarled at the boy.

Luke's face paled still further, and miraculously he was able to shiver even harder than he had been.

Then he spoke, in a tiny, weak voice, "Please don't."

"Don't do what?" Vader snarled.

But Luke didn't seem to be able to answer. He lay before Vader, shaking. Vader pulled back to punch the boy and was surprised when his only reaction was to close his eyes tightly.

"Idiot boy! Why won't you protect yourself?" Vader snarled.

The boy moaned something that sounded like, "Can't."

Vader yanked the boy to his feet, then released him. Instantly, the child crashed down into the tub again, apparently unable to catch himself. Vader stared at the weak child.

"What happened to you? Yesterday you were everywhere, now you can't even speak?" Vader asked, surprised to feel some concern for the young man. Hadn't he been telling himself just moments before that the boy could die?

Luke didn't answer, except to open his mouth weakly and look up at Vader with pleading in his eyes.

_Of course. It's the hunger. His body couldn't take throwing up everything he'd eaten yesterday, and it weakened him. But could it really weaken him this much? He kept leaning on me at dinner yesterday. Was it just because he couldn't sit straight by himself? I thought it was all part of his act._

Vader watched the boy a few more seconds before deciding on his course of action. He didn't want to do it. He had tried to avoid the room at all costs since… since he'd decided he wouldn't need it. But clearly, Luke needed at least something from it.

He didn't like being afraid for the boy's life. It went against everything he had told himself about the boy. It meant that the child did mean something to him, something irreplaceable. Pushing aside his selfish feelings, he gently put one hand on Luke's head promising, "I'll be right back."

The boy in the tub barely even seemed to have heard him. The only indicator that he had was the silent closing of his eyes.

Vader gave the boy a final pat and stood. Part of him wanted to lift the child out of the tub and carry him along, for strength. But he needed to be stronger than that. A child's life rested in the balance. Biting his lip, he descended the stairs, heading towards his room. He walked past his door, and, squeezing his hands into tight fists, walked into the one next door.

The moment he entered, he felt tears well up in his eyes. There was a reason this room had been abandoned for a good sixteen years. He had prepared it for his child. The one he couldn't bring himself to believe was dead. It was filled with everything a newborn child could ever need, with the most recent additions being a few toddler toys, which Vader had put in just before finally forcing himself to think of his baby as unavoidably lost to him.

He pushed the tears from his eyes and forced himself to hurry past the cribs, one blue, and one pink. He hadn't known if his baby had been a boy or a girl. He told himself that it didn't matter, because there was nothing he could do now to save the baby. What was important was that he get a bottle to feed Luke with. The slave's life could still be saved.

After all, you bottle-fed babies because they were too weak for solids, didn't you? Luke was clearly too weak for anything more than the simplest action.

Vader picked his way through the play area he had arranged, finally reaching the cupboards he had filled with feeding necessities. He yanked the doors open, rummaging through ancient baby food, which he was surprised to see had not yet passed its expiration date.

At last, he found a bottle and a bag of powdered milk. He looked at the milk, wondering if the simulated human milk would be too fatty for Luke's weak system. He decided it would be, and took only the bottle. He was half way back across the room when he decided that it couldn't hurt too much to add just a bit of the powdered milk to the real milk he would give the boy.

He returned to the cupboard and pulled out the bag. Then he hurriedly exited the room, brushing his tears aside once more. He practically ran to the kitchen, filling the bottle with milk and a bit of the formula. Then he heated it, testing it on his wrist, as he had read you were supposed to with babies. Surely that applied to weak teenagers as well.

When he was satisfied that the milk would be safe for a baby, and hopefully also Luke, he returned to the boy's 'fresher. Luke still lay in the tub, making little hiccup-like sounds which Vader realized was as close as his body could come to crying.

Vader sat down on the lip of the bathtub and carefully lifted the boy into his lap. Immediately, Luke managed a wail.

"Shh, Luke." Vader said gently, showing him the bottle.

Luke shut up, desperately leaning forward, trying to reach it.

Vader forced the boy to relax again and gently pressed the bottle to the boy's lips. "Shh, Luke. Everything's going to be okay."

As Luke took the bottle and started to drink, Vader closed his eyes and pushed away everything he knew of the boy. He made himself forget the sound of the boy's cries. He threw away the joy he often took in torturing the child. Every cruel, cold thought he aimed at the boy he ignored. All he allowed himself to feel was the comfort of holding a warm body in his arms and caring for it.

And, in his arms, he felt that the child was doing the same thing. Forgetting the cruelty, forgetting the pain and fear, and only allowing himself to feel the comfort and care he was now receiving.

Slowly the child's desperation at initially being offered food faded away. He continued to drink from the bottle, but the urgency seemed to disappear, and Vader was able to take the bottle out of the boy's mouth for long enough that Luke could pant for a few moments before reaching for the bottle again.

Vader opened his eyes and looked down at the child, but Luke had closed his own eyes, resting silently against Vader's chest. His gaunt, frightened face had relaxed, and the boy had assumed a childish expression of comfort.

Vader smiled, holding the boy closer against himself. He had been terrible to the boy, and he was sure that he would resume being a monster towards him, but at the moment, Luke seemed like the most innocent, helpless child in the galaxy, and all Vader wanted to do was protect him.

Finally, though, he forced himself to put the helpless child back in the tub. The instant he left the warmth and protection of Vader's arms, Luke began to shiver, so Vader carefully wrapped a towel around the boy before patting his head once more and taking the bottle back downstairs.


	7. Chapter 7

To Vader's surprise, and eventually relief, he didn't fall back into the pattern of abusing the child at every turn. There came a time when Luke was strong enough to move around by himself. But instead of returning to beating the boy, Vader found the kindness to come more easily. He had forgotten how good it felt to make someone else happy. He had forgotten his own longing to be a parent to someone, but Luke was happy to remind him of that.

Vader had been shocked to discover that even when he was angry, he couldn't bring himself to torture Luke again. Instead, he would go up to his room and sit down on the bed and stew until Luke inevitably came to join him and listen to his problems.

All the while, Luke maintained a grip on some of the rules that Vader had laid down when he was still happy to hurt the child. He never ate when Vader hadn't offered him food, and nothing in the galaxy could convince him to enter the hanger Vader had forbidden. After several failed attempts to convince Luke to enter it, Vader finally gave up, and moved his tools to one of the hangers already filled with repaired speeders.

He had smiled to himself the whole time as Luke had sat in the new hanger and watched him moving the repaired speeders to the old one, and the broken down ones to the new one. It had been a ridiculous and pointless undertaking from a logical perspective, but Vader had learned to like having the boy around. After the time he had spent frantically nursing a kitten-weak child back to health, it was comforting to see the boy moving around by himself.

It hurt him to see how easily scared Luke was. The boy would turn to run whenever old rules were mentioned, clearly terrified that he had broken one and Vader had decided to fall back on the old rules. Vader tried not to mention them.

His idea of happiness transitioned from torturing Luke to spending time with him. Luke had an extremely limited understanding of the galaxy, for obvious reasons, and he wanted desperately to know more about where he lived.

Vader was sitting at the table eating his breakfast before going to look for Luke when there was suddenly a huge yawn from the sofa that dominated the half of the room that Vader considered to be a living room. Of course, the castle had more than enough space for each conceivable type of room to have three or four rooms dedicated to it, but the idea of trying to use the whole castle was claustrophobic at best.

Vader turned to the source of the sound. Sticking up over the back of the sofa were a pair of arms and a pair of legs, twitching slightly. Confused, and concerned, Vader went to the sofa to check on the boy. Luke gave another yawn and his limbs lowered themselves again as he curled back up.

Vader grinned at the boy, "That was quite a stretch."

Luke's eyes opened. "Huh?"

"I thought you might have been having a seizure." Vader said, smiling.

Luke smiled too, sitting up. Vader took a seat next to him, wrapping one arm around him, as had become their custom when sitting was still overly taxing on Luke.

"How're you feeling this morning?" Vader asked, "Hungry?"

"Yeah, a bit. I'm doing all right, thanks. How 'bout you?"

Vader smiled, standing and helping Luke to his feet. "I'm doing pretty well. I'm a bit hungry, and I was just about to have breakfast when you yawned. Do you think you can fix your own breakfast?"

"Sure. When can I start cooking again?"

"Huh?"

"You said I wasn't supposed to cook until you started letting me eat again. Since you let me eat sometimes now, can I cook too?"

"If you want to, sure. And I've tried to tell you, you can eat whenever you-"

But Luke's face was becoming terrified again. Vader stood and pulled him close.

"Shh, Luke. Shh. I didn't mean to scare you. Everything's going to be okay."

Luke let out a frightened whimper and broke down, sobbing. Vader gently led him back to the sofa and sat down, holding Luke close. As the boy cried helplessly, Vader rocked him, still trying to comfort him.

"I'm sorry, Luke. I didn't mean to frighten you."

Slowly, Luke calmed down again, snuggling close against Vader's chest.

"I'm sorry. It's just that-that…" The boy sniffled again.

"I know. It's hard for you. I'm sorry I contributed to that. Sit down and I'll bring you your breakfast."

Luke took a deep breath and stood up, "No. I'll get it. You're right, I need to get over this."

"Don't push yourself. Everything's going to be okay." Vader said, gently pushing Luke back into the sofa. "Do as I say and let me feed you."

Luke sniffled again and didn't try to get back up. Vader gave the boy a quick squeeze before filling a cereal bowl for Luke and taking his own. They sat together as they ate, Vader afraid that Luke would start to cry again and choke.

When the boy finished, Vader took his bowl and put both in the dishwasher, taking Luke down to the new hanger.

Luke pulled out his usual cleaning cloth before Vader had the chance to say anything. He happily walked to a particularly grimy speeder and climbed onto the hood, beginning to polish. Taking a toolkit, Vader followed him.

"Luke, I appreciate what you're doing, but would you like to learn how to make it run?"

Luke looked up with such speed that Vader could have sworn he heard a *crick* from the boy's neck.

"Yes!"

Vader smiled, "Then get off the hood, we need to get under there."

Luke leapt off the ship, putting his rag down and moving to Vader's side to watch intensely as Vader began explaining the problem with the ship.

Finally, Vader closed the hood, having repaired the ship with Luke's help. "Did you get that?"

Luke was still gazing catatonically at the hood, finally he shook himself out of it, "Yeah, I think so."

"Good. There's another ship over there with the same problem," Vader pointed. "I'll move to a ship nearer it so I can help if anything goes wrong. I want you to fix it."

"Me?" Luke asked, sounding startled.

"Yes, you. Now, come on, I'll show you to the ship."

Luke nodded nervously, "What if I mess up? It won't-it won't burst into flames, or anything like that, will it?"

Vader smiled, trying to avoid laughing and hurting the boy's feelings. "No, it won't. Not unless you make some mistakes physically large enough that I would see you doing them."

Luke gave a sigh of relief, "Oh. Okay."

Vader passed the boy the tools he needed and moved on to working with the ship beside it. Sooner than Vader would ever have guessed, Luke was coming around the ship, covered in grime and looking quite pleased with himself. "Done!"

Vader climbed off the shuttle he had been working on, joining Luke to look at the boy's work. "That's very good. I'm proud of you, S-" Vader broke off. He had been about to call the boy 'son'.

"What?" Luke asked, looking at Vader.

"Nothing. It was nothing." Vader shook his head.

"I- okay. If you're sure. I'm tired. May I go to bed?"

Vader nodded, feeling strange. It had felt so natural. He had just been speaking to the boy and the name had nearly escaped him. He had nearly called Luke his son. But Luke wasn't. He wasn't, and Vader shouldn't have felt that way about him. It was an insult to his son's memory. His _child_'s memory. His baby hadn't necessarily been a boy. He was projecting the child on Luke. He was lying to himself. He was allowing a slave to take his feelings for his child.


	8. Chapter 8

Vader didn't know where he'd got the virus. He had been feeling fine yesterday, and today he was too weak to move. That would have been bad enough if he hadn't vomited. But he had, and now he was forced to lie in it.

He hoped that, wherever he was, Luke was feeling more comfortable than himself. He hoped the child would think to eat, and not wait for Vader's permission. He hoped that he would be strong enough to move soon, so he could clean himself up and check on the boy.

To his deep frustration, he didn't regain strength before Luke came looking for him.

"Hello? Lord Vader?" He poked his head in the door. "Oh, good you are here." He began to enter the room. Then he seemed to realize exactly what Vader was lying in. "Oh, gross, is that…? Oh, that's disgusting."

He quickly walked to one of the two doors in the room that didn't open onto the main hall. Vader was immensely glad that he chose the one to the 'fresher first. He didn't want to explain the room for his baby.

Then he was at Vader's side, gently lifting him. Then, suddenly, Vader found himself deposited in the vomit once more. Luke was over him, panting softly.

"Sorry, not really strong enough for this," he said apologetically.

Vader didn't respond for fear of getting vomit in his mouth.

After a moment had passed, Luke carefully lifted him again. "Everything's going to be okay. I've just got to get you to the bathroom."

Vader nodded.

Suddenly, Luke seemed to deflate, his legs falling out from under both of them as they crashed to the floor. Vader was unsure if the fact he landed so squarely on the child was an accident, or Luke's intention. Luke pulled himself out from under Vader and sat there on the floor, half way between the bed and the bathroom door, panting.

After a few moments, he lifted Vader again, hauling him towards the bathroom again. After stopping once more along the way, he finally deposited Vader in the bathtub.

"You wash yourself off while I make the bed with fresh sheets, okay?" Luke asked gently.

Vader was disgusted to find himself unable even to shake his head to communicate that he was too weak.

Before he could muster the strength for communication, Luke left the room, closing the door after himself.

After a few minutes, a knock came at the door. "Hello? Are you done? Can I help you back to bed now?"

Vader tried very hard to respond, but failed nonetheless.

"Hello?"

Then, after a few seconds, "Are you okay in there?"

After a few more seconds, "Are you ignoring me because you think I don't deserve an answer?"

That time he waited almost a whole minute, the entirety of which Vader spent trying desperately to communicate. "Okay, please don't be mad if you are just ignoring me, but you're scaring me."

Vader watched the door open, and saw the boy enter.

"Why didn't you clean yourself up?" Luke asked nervously, "Not that I think I get to tell you what to do or anything."

Vader opened his mouth and tried to tell the boy that he was really just much too weak to be doing anything for himself at the moment when Luke seemed to clue in.

"Oh, you're too weak. Ah, well, I guess… should I help you?"

Vader nodded gratefully.

Luke gazed at his prone form in the bathtub, blushing a brilliant shade of red. "I-ah, I-ah, I'm just gonna leave your clothes on, okay?"

Vader smiled at the boy. Luke grinned back, apologetically. "Sorry I even thought about that," he said.

Vader's body tried to laugh, and he managed a sickly cough.

Luke turned on the faucet, carefully holding Vader's head out of the water. "Sorry about this. I would've come sooner if I'd known. I just thought you might've decided you were above me again and I thought you might be really angry if I came."

Vader shook his head.

Luke reached into a shelf next to the tub, pulling out a facecloth and soaking it in the water before gently starting to wash Vader's face.

"I'm really sorry you had to lie in that for hours."

Vader smiled again.

Luke seemed to decide that his current facecloth was sufficiently filthy to justify use of another. He threw the old one in the sink and pulled out another, starting to soak the half-dried vomit out of Vader's hair.

"This is really gross, I'm sorry, but it is." Luke said softly, throwing aside the second face cloth. "There is nothing grosser in the universe…"

At last, Vader's body managed a laugh. Looking down at his face, as if to determine the meaning of the sound he was making, Luke began to laugh too.

"I'm so sorry, but this is easily one of the grossest things I've ever done." Luke laughed, putting down the cloth for a moment. Then he moved to pick it back up, looked at it more closely and threw it into the sink after its two predecessors.

Reaching for another, he spoke, "You're gonna catch a cold too if I leave you in your wet clothes."

Vader tried to speak, and his body decided that it was an excellent moment to vomit a little more. To his surprise, Luke leapt forward with the most recent cloth, catching it before it hit the water and throwing the fourth facecloth into the sink.

Taking still another cloth, Luke said, "What were you going to say?"

Vader shook his head, not wanting to vomit anymore.

Luke finished washing the vomit from Vader's face and hair before speaking again, "I'd really rather not wash your tunic with a facecloth too. Would it be okay with you if I just helped you out of that?"

Vader nodded. It was what he'd been trying to say earlier.

Luke carefully propped Vader up in the tub, carefully untangling him from the sodden fabric.

At last, Luke worked it free and dropped it back into the tub before starting to drain it. "See it'll catch any little bits of- you know what. Let's get you back to bed now."

Vader was glad to discover that he had regained enough strength that Luke only had to drop him once.

As the young man heaved Vader back into bed, which he had made with fresh sheets and blankets, he sighed and slipped to the floor, where Vader watched him concernedly until he was able to stand up and tuck Vader into bed. Then he walked around the double bed and sat on the other side.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

Vader nodded, and tried to speak, "I think so."

Luke smiled in relief, "Good. Do you think you can manage some food?"

Vader shook his head, "Not just yet. I'd rather not risk it."

Luke nodded, "Ah, much as I hate to ask, do you need to torture me today?"

Vader shook his head.

Luke smiled and relaxed slightly, resting himself on his hands. He sat there, not speaking to Vader for several hours. It wasn't a tense silence. It didn't give the feeling that Luke was afraid to speak for fear of torture or anger. All it spoke of was a void they didn't feel words could fill.

Finally, Vader's stomach growled.

"Would you like me to get you some food?"

Vader thought about it a moment. "Yes, please."

He watched as Luke left and made himself more comfortable, waiting for the boy to return. When Luke did return, he passed Vader a tray of food and started into the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" Vader called after him, when the door didn't shut.

"I was going to clean out these facecloths," Luke called back.

Vader snorted, "Please, just burn them. But first, come here, you must be starving."

Luke re-entered the room, resuming his place on the bed, but not taking anything.

Exasperated, Vader grabbed one of the boy's hands and pressed a piece of bread into it.

Luke looked abashed and took it, nibbling on it nervously.

Vader sighed. He didn't like the way Luke still drew back unexpectedly. He wanted the boy to feel at home with him now. He didn't want to be reminded every time he spoke to the boy what he'd done.

"You're safe here now, you know that, don't you?"

"Yeah. Sure." Luke said. But his voice was doubtful, and Vader felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach.

He had been given such a happy child. Maybe if he'd been kinder, gentler, that first day, he would have stayed that way. But he hadn't been, and now he was afraid that that Luke was gone forever.

"I'm going to call a doctor for you, okay? I don't like to see you like this." Luke said.

Instantly, it was as if Vader's heart had frozen in his chest. "No, Luke. Don't call a doctor for me. Not now, not ever. I don't want to hear you ever ask about that again, do you understand me?"

Luke looked too frightened for the force Vader had put behind the words, and for a moment Vader forgot, in his panic, about the boy's predisposition to fear him.

"I'm sorry, Luke. Don't be frightened. I didn't mean to scare you. It's just that… my master insists that I have an image. I'm not supposed to call for outside help."

Luke nodded, but he was still leaning away from Vader, shivering violently.

Vader used the Force to put the tray down beside the bed and pulled the boy close, "It's okay, Luke. Don't be upset. I didn't mean to scare you. I wasn't angry, you just startled me."


	9. Chapter 9

When Vader awoke the next morning, he was glad to be feeling better. It also amused him that Luke had decided to snuggle up on top of the blankets, and slept next to him.

He pulled himself up in bed, still feeling too weak to do much more than that and smiled down at the boy, resting one hand on his head. Luke shuffled slightly in his sleep, and Vader was afraid he had woken the child. Then Luke quieted and Vader relaxed.

Vader sat there, looking over the only part of his kingdom that currently mattered to him for what felt like it could have been several hours, or perhaps an eternity. Then Luke shuffled again, blinking up at him.

"Was'happening?" he asked groggily.

Vader smiled down at him, "Nothing, at the moment."

Luke yawned, stretching, then nestled himself against Vader once more, "That's good."

"It's good to see you looking so comfortable."

Luke didn't answer. Vader carefully bent over to see that the boy's eyes had already closed, and he was breathing slowly again.

Vader sighed, lifting the tired boy onto his lap and gazing up at the ceiling, thinking. At last, Luke moved again, sitting up and looking somewhat startled to see where he was.

"What happened? Why am I here?" he asked, looking panicked.

Vader gently brushed the boy's hair out of his eyes, "I got sick, and you came to help me. I suppose you fell asleep here after I dozed off."

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, I swear!"

"Shh, don't worry about it. I don't mind at all. Why don't you lie down again and make yourself comfortable?"

Luke looked at the pillows as if he was longing to curl up in them once again, but he shook himself out of it. "No, I've got to get you food. You haven't been up, have you? You're not strong enough to be getting up!"

"Calm down," Vader admonished gently. "I haven't been up, and you don't have to run around waiting on me constantly. If you're tired, let yourself sleep."

"But-but, that's my job!" Luke said, looking nervous.

"Luke, you don't need to have a job. Besides, at the moment, what matters to me is that you're comfortable. So consider your job to be lying back down and going to sleep."

Again, Luke looked at the bed and Vader was certain for a moment that he would do as he had been told. Then he shook his head again, standing up.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, okay? I'm going to make you breakfast, and then maybe I'll rest. If you don't need anything else, that is."

Vader sighed, "Have it your way."

Luke stood and hurried to the door, and Vader waited silently for him to return.

When he did re-enter the room, he was carrying a tray of breakfast foods for Vader. He passed the tray to the older man and sat down on the bed next to him, curling up silently.

"Luke, sit up."

Instantly, the boy yanked himself upright.

"Eat before you sleep. For heaven's sake. Use a little common sense."

Luke smiled slightly, "I'm not entirely sure I have that."

Vader smiled back at him, "Neither do I. But please try to take care of yourself, for me."

Luke's smile widened, and he nodded, "I'll do my best. I promise." Then he rolled over, curling up again, and began to drift off once more.

"Luke." Vader said, warningly, "Wake up. I told you, eat before you sleep."

The boy sat up again, cautiously taking a roll off the tray and beginning to nibble on it in his quiet, timid way. Strange, if someone had told Vader a month ago that there was a timid way to eat, he wouldn't have believed them.

When the boy finished the roll, he lay back down. Vader watched in silence, not wanting to disturb the child again. When he was quite certain that Luke was asleep, he carefully lifted the boy with the Force for long enough to fold the blankets back. Then he rested the boy on the sheets and carefully covered the thin body.

Then he dragged himself to his feet, moving to the 'fresher, and placing the tray next to the one from the day before.

As he went to crawl back into bed, he found that the young slave had curled into a very tight ball, and seemed to be crying in his sleep. Uncertainly, Vader sat down on the bed, carefully lifting the child.

"Luke?"

In his arms, Luke did nothing but continue to shiver and press his face against Vader.

"Luke, wake up." Vader gave the boy the gentlest of shakes, and Luke's eyes sprang open. Vader allowed the boy to cling to his tunic for several minutes before asking that the boy look up. Slowly, Luke looked up at his face, his entire body shaking as if he was afraid that Vader's gaze would turn him to stone.

"What's wrong?"

Luke shook his head, pressing closer to Vader.

Vader shoved away a happy swell of warmth that the boy had pressed up against him, not sprung away. "Luke, please tell me. What were you dreaming of?"

Luke turned his tear-streaked face up to Vader's again, "Prison." Then he sniffled pathetically, and Vader felt compelled to hold him once more.

As the boy started to cry, Vader sat still, holding him, not knowing what to say, or even think. He knew that prison had been terribly hard on Luke, but he didn't know what could be said to make it better. As he looked down at the sobbing child's head, he wondered if there was anything in the galaxy that could help the boy to forget that pain forever.

"Luke?"

The boy didn't speak, but Vader thought he saw a nod hidden in the frantic shivers.

"You know that I love you very much, don't you? Almost as if you were my own child?"

But Luke's sobs only seemed to intensify, and Vader concluded that he didn't have the words Luke needed to be comforted.

He sat there, holding his boy, quite unperturbed by his failure, continuing to try to comfort the child. At last, Luke's tears ran out, and he rested his head against Vader.

As the day wore on, they stayed together, keeping each other close, and the feelings of despair and loneliness at bay. The comfort of being the one Luke trusted was such that Vader could barely find any frustration with which to note that he didn't seem to be getting better at the same rate as before. That he was, in fact, not improving at all.


	10. Chapter 10

Vader blinked up at the ceiling, trying to comprehend where he was. Why couldn't he move? Why couldn't he roll over? Where was Luke? Why hadn't the boy leaned over him with his comforting expression of concern?

He closed his eyes and lay still a moment longer. When he felt strong enough, he sat up, looking around for the boy.

What looked back at him was a hospital room. One of the medical technicians turned to him.

"You're awake."

Vader was too preoccupied with worrying about Luke to realize how stupid a comment it had been. "Where's Luke?"

The man gently tried to push Vader back into the pillows. "You're not at home anymore."

"Where is Luke?"

"Sir, you're in the hospital."

"I know that! Where is _Luke?"_

"Would you like to see the note he left you?"

"_Yes!"_

The man looked at Vader with an unexplainable look of pity on his face and handed him a folded piece of durasheet.

Vader unfolded it and read,

_Father,_

_I've called a doctor for you. I know you said not to, but you've been unconscious for two days, and I, _at which point there were several large smudges that almost blanked out the next few words_, know I don't have long left. I've been doing everything I can. I keep you cool when you're too warm, and I give you more blankets when you're too cold. But I can't keep this up much longer. Once I've finished writing this letter, I'll go down to a garbage disposal and wait. That way, it'll be easier for you to get rid of my body when you come back._

_Thank you for sheltering me these past few months. Living with you has meant the galaxy to me, no matter how cruel you're being. I've loved being near you. It's been wonderful to be close to you since you've been ill. Not that I mean that cruelly, it's just that seeing you helpless, and being able to protect you, it's made my whole life feel worthwhile. When I came up that first day, and found you unable to move, it felt like the galaxy was smiling on me and saying "Here you are, for everything you've lived through, have this one chance to feel it was worth something."_

_I'm glad we had this time together. I felt so good when you called me by my name for the first time. I don't know if it occurred to you, but that was the first time anyone since Mom called me by my name._

_You used to be so cruel. It was hard to wake up every morning and come upstairs to make you food, knowing that you would beat me when you came near me. But I always came anyway. And for a while you just got crueler, and it got harder and harder to come upstairs. But there came that day when I couldn't get up. I tried so hard. Especially when you called for me after the battle. I wanted to come and be beaten. I felt so rotten, so useless to you I honestly thought I deserved it._

_But you came to me. You came and found me. And I thought you were going to beat me. But you didn't. You picked me up and you were so kind to me. You held me in your arms. You fed me. I knew about that room you had for me when I was a baby. It was one of the places I used to go to cry. There were two._

_When you had been awful to me, I would go to one or the other. The room for baby me, or your room to look at the photos of Mom. I'm so sorry I broke that one. I hope you were able to fix it._

_I'm sorry. My mind is wandering. I guess it knows that I don't have long left._

_You nursed me back to health. It took a lot of work, because I was so weak, but you did it anyway. So of course I came to help you. And on top of all that kindness you gave me, there was that day in the hanger before you fell ill. You nearly called me son._

_I knew from the moment I was given to you that when you called me son, all would be forgiven. So when you nearly did, my heart flew into my throat. I was so hopeful. But you stopped speaking. You turned away and looked so upset. You looked like it had all been a terrible mistake. It's why I ran from you again that day. But I couldn't keep myself from coming back to you, hoping that you would care for me, and give me that title. I was so lost, needing that honour._

_Being called son, just once, would have made me so happy. It would have gratified my entire life's worth of dreams. But you never did. And now I'm dying. And I think you might be dying. And I'm so afraid. The doctor is coming now. I can hear him at the door. I pretended to be you on the phone. Maybe he won't have caught on._

_I hope I haven't been too much of a bother. I love you, Father._

_Your unacknowledged son, _

_Luke._

"We found him curled up against a wall. We didn't understand what was wrong with him. He looked perfectly healthy. But he was clearly dying. So we picked him up to try to treat him as well. More specifically, I picked him up. You have no idea what it feels like to reach for a living being's body, to lift it, and to feel only cloth under your arms. When we took the wrappings off, all that remained was a ribcage with pale skin barely covering it."

Vader was still staring at the letter in horror. His son? Luke was his son? "Is-is he alive?"

The medic nodded, "Barely."

"Take me to him." Vader said, expecting to be denied, and to have to threaten his way to seeing the boy.

"Of course. For you, the coma was just your body's way of telling you to allow yourself to heal."

Vader threw aside the implied, _for your son, it was dying_, and stood up. As he entered the hall, he recognized the area as a low risk unit. The knot in his stomach tightened slowly with each step he took towards his son. Each hall seemed to take him into a higher risk area, until he couldn't bring himself to look at the signs anymore.

At long last, the medic led him into a final hallway, which didn't lead into another. Vader grasped the meaning instantly, there is no higher risk.

The medic stopped. "We can't convince him to eat. Every time we try, he gets scared. Being scared has the potential to kill him now. A few times, we've tried force-feeding him. He's too weak for that now, of course. And each time we managed to force his body to swallow something, he rolled over, and vomited it right back up. Every time he denies food, bringing himself a little closer to death, he cries that you didn't want him to eat."

Vader knew the man hated him for how he had treated Luke. He hated himself for it as well. "I tried to tell him that he should eat when he was hungry, but he wouldn't listen." The man didn't answer, but Vader felt compelled to continue. "I didn't try hard enough."

The man nodded sharply, and opened the door for Vader.

The moment Vader saw his son, his heart fell. Fell past all levels of falling he had ever known. To his surprise, he had discovered something more painful than losing Padmé. At least she had known how deeply he cared about her.

Now their child lay in front of him, barely alive, believing his father held some mysterious flaw against him. Held it against him so strongly that he wanted his child dead for it. Nothing, nothing in the galaxy could be more painful than having the only person you cared about, in the entire universe, dying because he didn't know how deeply you cared.

_My son. Oh, Luke. My baby. I didn't know. I'm so sorry, Luke, I didn't know._ He began to approach the child, walking like a sleepwalker. In his sleep, the child thrashed a couple of times, nearly tearing out his IV. _It's the only thing keeping him alive_, Vader tortured himself, _without that, he'd be dead already._

There was a woman standing beside Luke's bed, holding his skeletal hand and speaking softly. She looked up as Vader entered.

"Lord Vader," she said with a curt nod.

"Who are you? What are you doing to my son?" Vader asked.

She glared at him, "My name is Leia Organa. I've been visiting your son. It's how I let my people know that I will be a good leader. Unlike you. Imagine, forcing your child to lie about your abilities as a parent. Imagine telling a starved child to lie that he was anorexic. Imagine, gaining an ally through a process like that. Then imagine that he still cared for you. That he was willing to die for you. I don't even mean take a bullet. I mean, imagine that he would call a doctor for you, and go curl up in a dark corner of your home and wait to die. Imagine that people who cared tried to save him, offered him a better father. Offered him a chance to be royalty. Imagine that the words his true father had spoken to him kept him so broken that he continued to starve himself. What gives you the right to enslave anybody? Least of all your own son. They found the tracker when they x-rayed him for any other complications. He was lucky it malfunctioned."

Vader bowed his head silently, knowing the words were too true to argue with.

He reached for his son's nearly dead body, carefully lifting it.

"Luke?"

Nothing.

"Luke, wake up." Vader gave the boy the gentlest of shakes, and Luke's eyes flickered open. But as quickly as they had opened, they closed again.

"Luke, wake up. I need you to eat something."

Again, Luke's eyes opened, more slowly this time, as though it was the action of opening them that had made him so tired that he had had to close them again right afterward. "Father?"

_Father. He called me father. All his life, he's wanted to, and now he finally has._ "Yes, Luke. Open up, alright? I'm going to feed you."

As though she sensed the urgency of the hushed conversation, Leia handed him a bottle.

_Just like last time. I'm feeding my son again. Feeding him from a bottle because I've denied him food._

But Luke didn't accept the bottle, turning his pale face away from it. "Father wouldn't want…"

"Luke, I'm your father, I'm right here."

"You're not. I'm imagining you. Or they're lying to me again," then he silenced himself again, panting as though he'd run a marathon.

"Luke, you're not imagining me. Luke, my son. My only child, I'm here."

Luke looked up, his eyes opening wide for the first time. Then, as though he still didn't quite believe what he was seeing, he reached up, gently touching Vader's face.

Vader opened his mouth to reassure Luke again that they were together, but Luke just continued to gently touch his face, as if verifying what he saw with what he could touch. Then, suddenly, the boy let his arms fall to his sides, opening his mouth as he did so.

Taking it as an acceptance of his offer of food, Vader gently rested the nipple of the bottle on his son's lower lip. Slowly, the boy's mouth closed on it, and he began to drink.

As the boy continued sipping, Vader felt a great weight lift from his chest. The boy knew he accepted him now. He knew that he was who he said he was. He was drinking, allowing himself to be healed. He was crying too, unsurprisingly. And, looking down at his son's helpless face, Vader felt tears running down his own cheeks.

"Everything's going to be okay, Luke."

The child didn't respond. Of course he didn't respond. He was probably still too weak to answer.

"Incredible," It was the princess who spoke. "He can still forgive you. After everything you've done to him, he can still forgive you. It won't be so easy to regain my trust."

Vader held his son close against himself, not wanting what he was about to say to put the helpless child in danger, "Princess, with all due respect, I honestly don't care whether you forgive me. Unless you mean to tell me that I have not one, but two long-lost children running around the galaxy, I don't care."

The instant he said it, he knew something was wrong. The girl didn't look at him with an expression of resentful acceptance that he had won the argument, but one of disparaging pity.

"I'm the one who could convince him to eat once in a while. Even if he did vomit it up immediately, he knew he could trust his twin sister to tell him to do what was right. He always apologised to me when he was finished. He would lose all the nourishment he had, and then he would cry that he was sorry, but he couldn't do that for me."

Vader looked from his son's hollow, pale face to the healthy, rapidly reddening face of the young princess. Any likeness they may have shared was quickly being hidden.

"Do you have any idea how many times he asked me where you were? He must have begged me to tell him for hours on end. And I answered him. Each time he cried for an answer, I told him. But he couldn't accept the answer that you were in a hospital bed too, unconscious, not caring about him. The one time he did seem to understand it, he tried to stand up to go and see you."

She threw down a second bottle she had been about to hand to Vader and shouted, "He said he needed to take you your breakfast! He wanted to wait on you, even in the condition he was in! I had to hold him into bed while they prepared a shot to knock him out! As he drifted off, he cried and asked me to take you something to eat when you woke up!"

In Vader's arms, Luke was crying harder, shaking frantically. Vader held the child close, hushing him gently. Suddenly, the princess was there too, her hand resting in Luke's hair.

Vader didn't know whether to draw back, and allow the more experienced princess to care for the boy, or continue attempting by himself to show that it was important that he be the one to comfort his son. Of course, it was important to him that he be the one to comfort the child, but he had no experience in comfort. Only harming. And if he had to choose between his own attempts and the princess's success... he drew back slowly, unsure of how she would react.

She knelt on the floor before her father and brother, carefully extracting the sobbing boy from their father's arms. Careful not to take the IV from his wrist, she held him on the floor. Vader stood, and carefully levitated the two of them up onto the bed so they would be comfortable. The girl glared at him, and Luke didn't seem to have noticed, but something about it felt right.

He didn't know what to do. Luke should stay with the princess. If they were on Alderaan, as the girl's talk seemed to have indicated, it would be a good home for Luke. He could learn to swim, and play in the lakes. He could finally gain some memories of happy, childish things, like climbing trees, playing with friends, enjoying life. It would be for the best. He would be royalty. Safe, happy, with his sister.

Vader wanted desperately to keep the boy close, to possessively keep the child under his own wing. But it was selfish. He didn't deserve Luke. The princess was right.

He watched them for a moment or two longer, then turned to leave.

He would go home. He would clean up everything that would remind him of his son's pain. He would ask for a couple of photos of his children together to keep beside his bed, with the ones of Padmé. He could feel himself crying once more. He would send Luke the one he had broken. He would send it with all the answers to everything, explaining everything that had been hurting Luke when he wrote what he'd meant to be a suicide note.

"Where in the nine Sith hells do you think you're going?" snapped a sharp voice from behind him.

He turned back to see the princess looking up at him from where she was comforting her brother.

He sighed softly. He hadn't wanted to be forced to voice what he was thinking. "I'm going home. You should keep Luke. He'll be safe and happy here. He can forget about me. I know I have no right to ask, but please promise me that you'll keep him safe. Promise you'll help him to make a few good memories of being a child."

The princess's anger was rising again, "Forget about you? He can't forget about you! If you leave now, you're just running away from responsibility! But that's all you're good at, isn't it?"

"I know what it sounds like. But- he'll be happier if I'm not here. If I'm here, it'll just be a constant reminder of what happened."

The princess gently rested her weak brother back on his bed and stood up, beginning to advance towards Vader. For a short girl, she had an incredible presence as she stomped up to him.

"You're thinking only about yourself. It'll be hard for you if you have to be reminded every day of your life of what you've done to Luke. If you leave now, I can tell you exactly what will happen. Luke will stop eating. Even I won't be able to convince him to eat. He'll get more and more ill until he finally doesn't wake up. He'll die, and if, by some miracle, I manage to convince him to survive this, if I manage to convince him that his life is worth living, he won't have whatever wonderful, fairy-tale ending you're thinking of. Oh, we'd try. We'd do everything with him. We would take him to the beaches, the forests, across the entire galaxy. But he wouldn't be there. Not really. He wouldn't play. He wouldn't be making happy memories. He would be hiding in the darkest corner he could find, wondering what he did wrong. Wondering why he went on living when you abandoned him again!"

_He abandoned me_, Vader thought, _The graffiti on the bathroom wall. It wasn't how he felt when I went on missions. It was how he perceived the fact that I hadn't raised him._

He looked at the child on the hospital cot. Then he looked back at the furious princess. The boy on the cot started to cry out softly again. He looked back to the princess, unsure whether she was going to do her infinitely better job of comforting him, or if he should give it his best shot.

"Why should I have to be the one to comfort him when it's you who's hurt him?" the princess snarled.

He walked back to the cot, sitting on the edge, carefully lifting his child. The boy gave a final sob and buried himself against his father, not even shaking. Apparently he just needed to be held.

"Luke, I'm going to leave you here, with your sister, all right? She and her adoptive parents will take good care of you. I'm going to go home. I'll send you your things, and if you want, you can write to me."

He felt the princess's glare. But what he was really aware of was his son's response. Instead of slowly, sadly releasing him, as he had expected, the boy clung tightly to his tunic.

"No."

"Luke, it's what's best for everyone."

"No."

"Luke, please. If I got angry, I might hurt you again by accident." Vader begged.

The soft spoken, tortured, starved, weak child looked straight into his father's face and said with utmost certainty, "If you go, I'm coming with you."


	11. Chapter 11

The princess had gone home, at last. Vader sat beside his sleeping son. The boy had accepted a couple more bottles of whatever formula it was that the hospital issued. Enough, in fact, that the boy's stomach was silent as he slept.

A day ago- no, more than that, before he had fallen unconscious, he hadn't understood at all. He hadn't known his son was so close at hand. He hadn't known that he had lied to his daughter's adoptive parents about his care for the child. He had been only mildly confused by Luke's loyalty. Was he so self-centered that it hadn't occurred to him that his son was doing infinitely more than he really needed to?

As if he sensed his father's despondent thoughts, Luke rolled closer to him, opening his eyes slowly.

"You're still here. Good."

Vader smiled, putting one hand in his son's hair. "With a threat like that, how could I not?"

Luke smiled tiredly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Hungry again."

Vader took another bottle from the counter.

Luke looked at it doubtfully, "Any chance of solids?"

Vader looked at the bottle. He hadn't considered Luke's pride to be a problem with feeding. "I'm not sure. I'll call for a doctor and ask."

Luke nodded and nestled himself comfortably in the bed. Vader pressed the call button and smiled down at his son's tired face. The boy was curling up again, looking as if he might drift off at any moment.

"Stay awake, Luke. How can I feed you if you don't?"

Luke yawned and blinked a few times. Then he nodded and started trying to sit up. Vader caught him to push him back into the bed when a medic entered.

"He is too weak to sit up, Vader," the man snapped.

"I was…" Vader started.

"I don't care. He's too weak to sit up. Hells, it looked like you wanted him to sit up by himself!"

Vader gave up on trying to defend himself. "He wants some solid food. I've convinced him to drink a few bottles of whatever-this-is," he said, holding up the bottle and swishing it gently.

To his surprise, Luke retched. The boy tried frantically to get to the edge of the bed, and vomited up everything he'd eaten. Vader wrenched himself out of horror-struck inactivity and carefully lifted his son back to the center of the bed when he was done. Luke looked green in the face, his small mouth still piteously open.

"What happened?"

Luke burped, and Vader prepared to move him back to the edge of the bed. "I swear the stuff in my stomach did the same as in the bottle."

"I'm sorry, Luke," Vader said gently, putting down the bottle.

The boy shook his head, telling Vader that it wasn't his fault.

Vader looked back up to the medic. "Sorry, I didn't know that would happen. Is there anything solid I can feed him?"

The medic looked ready to protest that now it was as if Luke hadn't eaten, but the boy looked over at him, "Please?"

The man nodded, opening one of the cupboards and pulling out a bag of powder and a bowl.

"Stir this together with some of the formula. It doesn't have much nutritional content, but it will lend the liquid some flavour."

Luke smiled at him, "Thank you."

The medic cast a final disgusted look at Vader and left the room. Vader was beginning to feel like a misbehaving toddler with all the glares he was receiving.

"Well, here we are," he told his son, mixing some formula and some of the powder and gently putting a spoonful to Luke's lips.

As the boy took it and swallowed, Vader watched cautiously, ready for any sign that the boy was going to vomit again.

"Is that better?"

Luke nodded slowly, "Yeah, a bit. A little texture wouldn't hurt, though."

Vader smiled, "Sorry, I can't do that for you. Can you eat a little more?"

"Now that my stomach is empty, I think I could manage a bowlful," Luke said hopefully.

Vader filled the bowl and started mixing it. When liquid and powder had gained a consistent sludge-like texture, he began feeding his son again.

Luke ate the bowlful, as he had said he could. Then he began to curl up, but the medic re-entered as Vader placed the bowl, powder, and formula on the floor.

He handed Vader a package of biscuits, "He can eat these as well. Only one or two at a time, though."

Vader nodded, feeling as if the man had just done him a great and unnecessary kindness. As the medic left, Vader turned back to Luke.

"Do you think you can manage," he started, but Luke had yanked himself into a sitting position and was already nodding eagerly. Vader laughed and gently pushed his son back into the bed. He helped the boy to eat two of the biscuits before putting them on the floor with the other foods.

Luke looked slightly disappointed, but he didn't comment.

"When you're doing a little bit better, I'll probably be allowed to give you a few more at a time."

Luke nodded and sighed, resting back in his pillows.

"You should get some more sleep," Vader told him gently.

But Luke was already shaking his head, "No. I'm not tired again yet. I feel a bit better now." Again, he tried to sit up.

Vader gently held him down in bed, but reached for the buttons to raise and lower the bed. He propped the boy up to a sitting position and Luke smiled at him gratefully.

Vader took his son's hand, smiling at him.

"How do you feel, son?"

Luke looked up at his father, "Thank you."

"Thank you?" Vader asked, perplexed.

"For calling me son. They gave you my letter, right?"

"Oh, yes. Luke, I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were my son."

"Really? But-Palpatine said… he said you knew, and you were ashamed. He said you wouldn't want to be reminded. He said that's why he gave me to you."

Vader added the most recent to the list of crimes his master had committed. "My master has a penchant for lying. He didn't tell me of our connection. I never understood why he gave you to me."

"Oh," Luke said, and the happiness on his face made Vader immensely happy himself.

"I hate myself for what I've done to you. I don't deserve to go on living," Vader said honestly.

Luke sat up straighter, staring at his father in horror, "That's not true! Don't say that!" He started crying, and Vader reached out, pulling him close.

"Don't cry, Luke. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"You have to keep living," Luke asserted, "You _have_ to."

Vader kissed his son's forehead and gently put him back into his bed.

"I'm sorry I upset you, but everything's going to be okay now. Lie back down or they'll be furious."

Luke still looked frightened at his father's words, but he lay back down. As tears began to run freely down his face, Vader's heart fell again. He took his son's hands in his own, carefully, gently keeping him close.

"Don't be scared. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Luke's tears were flowing apparently without his intentions behind them. He reached up for his father, and Vader took him in his arms.

"Son, don't be upset. Everything's going to be okay."

Son was quickly becoming the magic word for comforting Luke. It had drawn his attention so Vader could coax him to eat, and it always made him smile at least a little bit.

Luke smiled.

"That's better. Everything's going to be okay, see?"

Luke nodded slowly, pressing close against Vader as if he was still making sure that his father wasn't going to commit suicide.

"Who's he?" Luke asked, raising one arm and pointing towards the door.

Vader had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Slowly, he turned around, holding his son closer and reaching for his lightsaber. Why hadn't he sensed a threat? But as the door moved into his range of vision, he was surprised to see a familiar figure standing there.

"Obi-Wan?" he asked, incredulous.

Obi-Wan smiled his familiar, wry smile. "Hello, Anakin."

Anakin had been thinking of himself as Vader. It was a hard habit to lose. He remembered trying to learn to think of himself as Vader when he'd turned. But as he remembered the potential to be Anakin, the man who was really the father to his twins, it felt like the only right answer. Looking down at the weak form of a child in his arms, he thought just how unbecoming that would be for a Sith. No. He was certainly not Vader now.

"Hello, Master."

The title was automatic. But of course Obi-Wan was his master. Clearly it wasn't Palpatine, who had raised Luke so cruelly and lied to him. To both of them.

Obi-Wan smiled, apparently sensing Anakin's thoughts. Then he looked down at Luke, "Hello, Luke. How are you doing?"

Luke continued to gaze up at his father in confusion. "Who_ is_ he?"

Anakin lifted his son's weak body on to his lap, showing him to Obi-Wan. "Luke, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi, my Jedi Master."

"Hello," Luke smiled at Obi-Wan.

The Jedi took a seat on the bed too, and Anakin kept Luke on his lap, careful to make sure the boy was comfortable.

Obi-Wan turned his smile to Anakin again, "Your daughter is furious."

Anakin sighed, gathering his son closer, "Yeah. I know. I kind of deserve it though, don't I?"

In his arms, Luke began to shake.

Obi-Wan looked at the boy in concern, asking as he did so, "What's wrong?"

"Father said-earlier, he said he-he said…" Luke trailed off, pressing himself against Anakin's chest.

Anakin gave his son a tight squeeze, telling him not to be frightened.

"I, uh, may have accidentally told him that I thought I should die. And, uh, it might have scared him."

Obi-Wan just sighed.

Anakin was tempted to snap back at him, but controlled the urge.

"I know Leia's furious. You've been keeping an eye on her?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "I take it you've accepted your responsibilities with your son?"

"I didn't know he was my son!" Anakin shot back. In his arms, Luke wrapped his own arms around Anakin's neck.

Obi-Wan accepted it, apparently aware of how deeply the idea of fighting scared Luke.

"Is Leia asleep back at the castle?"

"Yes. She knows how to care for herself. I wonder where she got that instinct," he teased as Anakin's stomach growled. "Can I get you something from the cafeteria?"

As Obi-Wan offered Anakin food delivery, Luke moved so quickly that he was able to release his father's neck and stand before Anakin caught him.

"No! I'm the one who's supposed to get you food when you're hungry! That's my job!"

"Luke, calm down. You don't need to have a job," Anakin said gently, pulling his son close.

"I need a job!" Luke shouted, beginning to cry. A medic poked his head in the door just in time to see Anakin standing and lifting his son in his arms, holding the child close.

"Luke. Look at me."

Luke looked into his father's eyes, teary eyed.

"I want you to forget every job I've ever given you. Okay? I want you to do that right now."

"But-need a job," Luke protested.

"I'll give you a new one. First, though, you have to forget every job I've given you before now. Can you do that for me?"

Slowly, tremulously, Luke nodded.

"Good boy. Now, your new job is to get better. You have to eat what they tell you, when they tell you. You need to rest. You can't be jumping up to wait on others. You need to let us care for you, alright?"

Luke sniffled and nodded.

"That's better. Now, I'm going to put you into bed. I want you to curl up and try to go to sleep."

"But," Luke protested again, "But, what about Obi-Wan?"

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan, giving him his best please-just-do-what-I-ask look. "Obi-Wan's going to go back to the castle to look after your sister."

Thankfully, Obi-Wan took the hint. He stood, walking from the room, when he reached the door, he waved goodbye to Luke.

In an incredibly sweet, childish motion, Luke lifted one hand, just a little, and waved a shy goodbye back at him. Obi-Wan smiled, and exited the room completely. Anakin sighed. He loved Obi-Wan very much, and was sincerely glad that his teacher had been able to forgive him, but right now, he just wanted to be with Luke. There was nothing to say that he hadn't already tried, and potentially failed, to say. But he wanted to be near his son, with the knowledge of who the boy was, just the two of them.

"What about you?" Luke asked as Anakin tucked him in.

"I'll see if I can get permission to move another cot in here to stay with you."

Luke smiled a smile of pure contentment. "Yeah."

Vader smiled back at him, kissing his forehead and watching as he fell asleep. Then he set about making the arrangements for himself.


	12. Chapter 12

Anakin didn't sleep very well. He had expected it. He hadn't bothered to try very hard. He'd stayed up, holding his son's hand for half the night. He had a prickling at the back of his neck, and a strange feeling that much depended on his ability and willingness to stay with his son until morning. Every now and again, the feeling would get stronger, and he would move to draw his lightsaber, and it left.

Finally, at approximately oh three hundred, Anakin felt the prickling stop. Exhausted, he crawled into the cot the doctors had permitted him to move into his son's room.

When he awoke, his daughter was beside his son's bed again. It was good to see them so close, he thought. Even if it did mean Leia hated him for what he'd done, it was good to see them safe and together.

He dragged himself into a sitting position, then stood and walked to his son's bedside. Luke's eyes were half open, looking up at his sister tiredly. When his eyes lit on his father, he smiled. "Good morning, Father."

Anakin smiled back at him.

"How do you feel?"

Luke yawned hugely, "Pretty good. Can I have something to eat?"

Anakin smiled, and reached for the bowl, the powder, and the formula. But as he was about to start mixing some for Luke, he noticed the label on the powder. _Rat poison?_

He opened the bag and looked inside. It certainly looked like rat poison, with some powdered drink mix added.

"Luke, how fine do you feel?"

"I feel better than I've ever felt, except I'm tired."

Anakin felt his voice start to shake, "How tired?"

Luke looked up at him, nonplussed, "Just tired enough that I don't feel absolutely fantastic?"

Anakin looked back at the bag of rat poison, turning it around, looking for how fast it was supposed to kill. He'd fed his son an entire bowl of the stuff! The package said it was supposed to take only a few minutes to take effect.

Anakin looked to his son to explain that he had to go ask a medic something, when he saw his daughter looking at him in confusion as well. He had been hiding the bag without meaning to.

Surreptitiously holding it up, he said, "I'm going to go talk to one of the nurses. I should see if I can get permission to give you something with a bit more texture."

Leia apparently sensed her father's intentions, because she didn't argue.

On shaky legs, Anakin stood, clutching the bag of rat poison tightly. How had he been so stupid? How had he completely missed the fact that it was rat poison? What kind of father could accidently feed their son rat poison?

He walked into the hall, looking both ways for a nurse. He had to find out if it had the power to kill Luke. And how quickly.

A nurse exited a nearby room, waving goodbye to the patient. Anakin approached her and she smiled, "Poor Greg. He's not going to die, but he will live out his life here."

"I'm sorry, can you please tell me what the effects of having eaten this would be?" Anakin asked, holding up the poison.

The nurse took it from him, "This stuff is pretty powerful. How much are we thinking about?"

Vader gulped, feeling terribly guilty, "Almost a cereal bowl full."

The nurse stared at him.

"I was told by a doctor that it would be safe to feed it to my son. Not in so many words, but I trusted him."

"Didn't you see the label?"

Anakin sighed, "I should have. But Luke was too weak for me to really pay attention to anything but caring for him. I know it's a terrible oversight on my part, but please just tell me how long he has to live."

The nurse still looked uneasy, but she was looking at the bag of rat poison again, "A whole bowlful?"

"Almost."

"You should take your son in for some medical tests. An immune system like that shouldn't go uninvestigated."

"What do you mean?" Anakin asked, perplexed.

"A whole bowlful of this should have killed him in an hour. Hells, a couple of tablespoons should've done him in. If he's still alive, you should be thanking your lucky stars."

Surprised, but immensely relieved, Anakin smiled, "He's not even feeling unwell."

"Well, that's incredible. May I see him?"

Anakin nodded, leading the nurse back into his son's room. Luke looked up from his sister, who he had been talking to.

"Hi. Am I allowed to have something solid now?"

The nurse gaped at him, "Incredible."

Luke looked immensely confused, "Incredible? I'm just hungry. It's not that unbelievable."

Anakin showed him the bag of rat poison, "The medic yesterday tricked me into feeding you this."

Luke stared at the bag of poison. Then he blinked several times and smiled innocently, "So, can I have something solid?"

"Luke, the fact you survived this is incredible."

Luke's face crumpled unexpectedly, "Not really. Palpatine was always poisoning me. Never enough to kill me, just enough to make sure that I would build up an immunity so that, if I ever got out, I wouldn't be able to poison myself," he gave a sniffle, and Vader sat on the bed beside him, holding him tightly.

The nurse was still looking at the bag of poison, then at Luke, in awe. At last, when Luke was almost calmed, the nurse spoke to Anakin. "If you would kindly come to collect the food, the hospital is fairly busy at the moment."

Anakin nodded, gently giving Luke to his sister, who had miraculously remained silent for the whole exchange. He stood and followed the nurse.

When they were out of earshot, she turned to him, "I don't care how cruel this 'Palpatine' is. Your son hasn't been alive long enough to have built up enough immunity to save him. The most plausible reason I can think of is that his guardian angel was with him last night. And, considering I'm science-minded and not religious, that isn't a plausible reason at all."

Anakin nodded. He thought of the strange presence he'd sensed the night before. Had it been a guardian angel? Could Padmé have come to protect her son? Or had it been Death? Had Anakin's presence, his desperate need to know his son, been enough to keep the most feared force in the galaxy at bay?

"Either way, we have to run a few tests on him. But he can have some solids first. If he survived the rat poison and came out happy and healthy and asking for food, he can manage just about anything."

Anakin smiled, nodding.

"The cafeteria is down that way, follow the signs. Maybe you should pick up something for yourself and your son's friend too."

"His sister," Anakin corrected.

"Huh?"

"She's his sister."

Anakin nodded, and parted ways with the nurse. He walked down to the cafeteria and selected three meals. Taking the tray, he walked back to the hospital wing his children waited in. Luke was amusingly ecstatic to be allowed a straightforward meal and not some slush of nutrients.

As the three ate, a doctor came to the door with papers asking for permission to test Luke's immune system. Anakin signed them before a glare from his daughter made him realize that the children were old enough to sign their own forms. Then Luke took them, put the pen to the paper, and had to ask his father how to spell his name.

There ensued a strange look from the medic, and a shuffle for extra durasheet, which was eventually given up when Anakin volunteered his left hand as a practice writing surface. Once Luke was certain that it was legible, he signed the papers as well.

The scene Obi-Wan entered several minutes later was Luke continuing to practice his signature on his own left hand, Leia smirking slightly, and Anakin trying to command the forces of the heavens to wash the permanent ink off his hand.

After several more minutes, Anakin contented himself with the fact that his hand was almost red enough to hide the blue ink, and gave up. He turned back to the other inhabitants of the room. Luke was finishing his meal, Leia, having finished hers, was talking to Obi-Wan in a corner behind the door.

Anakin walked over to his son and sat down next to him. He took his own meal, and they finished eating together. Then Luke wanted to try walking. Nervously, remembering the weakness that had possessed his son the night before, Anakin helped him to his feet. Luke quickly proved that the caution was needless. He took a couple of steps, then shook off his father's hands, walking in a circle a couple of times before dropping back down on the bed with a satisfied look on his face.

"No problem."

Anakin smiled at his son. Then, much to his horror, he sensed the same presence as the night before. He had decided that the constant presence had been Padmé, the one that came and went had been Death. This was the one that came and went. Or, wait, no. No, it wasn't. But it was something very much like it.

He looked up at the door, and felt his heart stop as Palpatine stared back at him. Anakin gave his son's hand a squeeze, and stood up. He wanted very much to shout at the demon who was invading his time with his family. But shouting could wait. Palpatine might hurt his children.

Drawing the Force as quickly, as unexpectedly as possible, he reached for Palpatine's cold, dark heart. There was the reassuring sense that he had the other man, and he squeezed, imagining he felt the beating heart failing, just as Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber and dove at Palpatine.

The Emperor didn't even get a chance to scream. His two dead halves hit the ground simultaneously. Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan to thank him, but Obi-Wan was looking over Anakin's shoulder with a worried expression on his face.

Anakin spun around, and saw his son staring at the two halves of the Emperor and crying softly.

He ran to Luke, "Don't cry. Don't be upset. He would have killed all of us. None of us would get the chance to run, Baby."

At the automatic pet name, Luke looked slightly comforted, and Anakin was reminded of his magic word.

"Everything's going to be okay, Son."

Luke didn't react as much as Anakin had hoped he would. _I suppose 'Baby' is stronger than 'Son' then._

"We needed him gone, Luke. Do you understand that? He's the one who made you live through all this."

Luke didn't even seem to be aware of why he was crying, as he just continued to sob. Anakin would have liked very much to get the chance to make sure Palpatine was absolutely, unavoidably dead, but taking care of his son took precedence.

"Master, can you get rid of him, please?" he asked, nodding to the corpse.

Obi-Wan nodded, and Anakin took his son close in his arms. "Baby, everything's going to be okay. Obi-Wan's gonna get rid of the body, and then everything's going to be okay. They want to run a few tests on your immune system, because no one should have been able to survive a bowl full of rat poison."

Luke nodded slowly.

"But once we're done those, since you're doing so much better, we can probably take you home afterwards."

"Can I sleep in the room you built for baby me? And, I guess, Leia?"

As his son spoke, Anakin turned to look at the girl as well. Leia was shaking. It hadn't occurred to Anakin that that exchange might have frightened her. From the moment he had met her, she was instantly the strong one. Stronger than Luke, certainly, but in Luke's predicament, most people were. Stronger than her father too in many ways. But she was staring at the floor where the parts of Palpatine had lain and crying herself.

Deciding his son was adequately comforted, he put the boy back in bed and went to the girl, who showed no interest in walking to her father to be comforted.

As he neared the girl, he wondered if he was about to be slapped. She wasn't incredibly fond of him, after all. But he couldn't bring himself to care. No matter how much she disliked him, she was still his daughter, and if she was crying, it was his job to comfort her.

She didn't slap him. In fact, she melted in his arms, wrapping her own tightly around his neck. She didn't protest even when he carefully lifted her off the floor and carried her back to her brother's bed. Anakin arranged her so she sat on his lap as Luke had, knowing all the while that she was rather more mature than Luke in several ways, and might be offended. But she didn't comment. In fact, she reacted exactly as Luke had, curling up and pressing closer to Anakin.

Anakin had no idea how to cope. He was used to being a Sith Lord, without a care beyond his own wellbeing, which he hadn't worked too hard on protecting either. Now, suddenly, he had not one, but two children who seemed willing to rely on him. Hoping the same techniques would work on both of them, he started to rock his daughter, and comfort her with similar words.

"Everything's going to be okay, Leia."

Leia sniffed and nodded. Anakin was greatly relieved that it appeared that the same techniques would work for both children.

"I've never seen someone killed so suddenly. One moment, we were all standing around talking. The next, Obi-Wan wasn't talking to me anymore, you'd stopped helping Luke walk, and there was a dead guy on the floor! I just- I mean my family's engaged in the rebellion. I've seen people die. I visit the hospital, especially people in critical condition, so I've seen people die there. I've just never- there's always a hint, you know? Like if there's a battle, you're prepared for death. And if a patient is about to die, they start having trouble speaking and whatever else. But here- one moment, everything was normal, and then…"

She pressed her face against Anakin's shoulder. Anakin held her close, wishing he'd been able to warn her.

"I'm sorry. I would've told you if I could've."

Leia sniffed again, "I know."

"I love you, Honey. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Leia sniffed once more and buried her face against her father. Luke, who was not the galaxy's most emotional stable to begin with, also began to cry. Had they both been toddlers, this would not have been a problem. They were not. Anakin didn't have enough space in his arms for both of them.

After much shuffling around, he managed to get one on each knee, his arms wrapped around both of them.

When Obi-Wan returned, thankfully having disposed of the corpse, he was kind enough to take Leia without questioning. In fact, he tried to take Luke. But Luke had grasped desperately at his father, and Leia had proven to be much easier to remove.

When the children were adequately comforted, they were able to proceed to Luke's testing. The doctors were surprised, and disappointed to discover that Luke's immune system was just as pathetically weak as they would have expected. Unable to explain the boy's survival, they let the family go.


	13. Chapter 13

One good thing, Anakin discovered, about his daughter having been adopted as a small child was the ease with which he was able to pass on leadership of the galaxy. One good thing, besides the simplicity, about passing the galaxy on to them was that they determined that it would be unsafe for Leia to be near them for a while, which meant that Anakin and Luke were allowed to take her.

Anakin hadn't even had to think about their first destination. Naboo. It was like Alderaan, so Leia felt at home. And it was so incredibly unlike all the places Luke had been forced to call home that he had insisted on spending the entire ride sitting with his father in the cockpit, asking everything there was to ask about their destination.

Leia had taken the more intelligent possibility and was sleeping. Anakin wasn't keeping tabs on Obi-Wan.

"What are the people like there?"

"They're good people. Your mother was their most beloved ruler, and she was wonderful."

Luke nodded, "Are there any aliens?"

"The gungans live there."

"Gungans?"

"They're humanoid, kind of orange with huge floppy ears," Anakin explained patiently.

"Oh. What's the planet like?"

"It's like Leia's planet."

"What's Leia's planet like?"

"Very scenic."

"Oh. Will there be lakes?"

"Yes. We're going to be staying on an island."

"Cool! Are you gonna teach me how to swim?"

"Yes."

"Cool. Can Leia swim?"

"I'd assume so."

"Can you swim?"

"Of course I can, otherwise I wouldn't be volunteering to teach you."

"Right. Could Mom swim?"

"Yes. Your mother was an excellent swimmer."

"What're we gonna do?"

"All sorts of things. Swimming, obviously, probably a few picnics, maybe I can teach you how to fly."

"Awesome!"

Anakin smiled. "Is there anything you want to do while we're there?"

"I dunno. Will we be having dinner together? That'd be one."

Anakin laughed, "I don't think you'll enjoy that quite as much as you think you will. Not after the first time, anyway."

Luke shrugged, "Maybe not. But I'm still looking forward to it. Can we go see Mom's family?"

"I'm not sure, Luke. I never really knew them. I'm sure they'd be happy to see you and Leia, but they might blame me for Padmé's death.

"Oh. Then I don't wanna go. I don't wanna go anywhere without you," it could have been stated with passion, and that would have been sweet, but something about the matter-of-fact way he said it made it feel all the more real. It was as if he'd said that two plus two was four, or that humans breathed air.

Vader smiled. The warm feeling at being so wanted, so needed, was wonderful.

"We'll be landing soon. Strap yourself in," he didn't try to shoo Luke out of the cockpit, knowing it would be a pointless battle.

Luke did as he was told, fastening himself to the co-pilot's seat. Anakin hoped that, wherever in the ship Obi-Wan was, he was also noticing the warning signs of an approaching landing.

Luke sat forward in his chair, gazing down at the blue and green sphere, which was slowly increasing in size. Anakin smiled absently and carefully guided the ship down to the cottage he had rented.

As soon as the ship was safely landed, Luke yanked off the crash webbing and went tearing through the ship to wake his sister.

Anakin ran after him, not wanting to be left behind. When they entered the sleeping quarters, Leia was already awake and sitting on her bed. Obi-Wan was drawn to the center of the commotion that was Luke failing to break in time and crashing into a nightstand. After a quick reassurance that the worst outcome had been a few bruises, as insisted by Anakin, Luke raced off to start taking things up to the cottage.

Leia followed him closely, and Anakin raced to get ahead of both of them so he could show them where to put things.

When their belongings were strewn out across their rooms, Anakin convinced his children to get into their swimsuits and come down to the water. He got changed himself and was already splashing in the water when his children came out.

Leia raced into the water without second thought. Luke ran right up to the water's edge, and in, until it reached his ankles. Then he started walking, as though he was afraid that the sand would drop out from under his feet.

"You'll be all right, Luke. There's a shelf here that extends a good long way out," Anakin assured his son.

Luke nodded, and looked a little more confident, continuing to splash out from shore.

Anakin decided against any teaching their first day, and joined in as Leia began to splash her brother, teasing him about his reluctance to enter the water.

After a few seconds, all meaning to the splashes was lost, and Obi-Wan, who had been sitting on the shore, was sufficiently wet enough that he decided to enter the water fully clothed and join. Anakin didn't notice when Luke drifted away.

When he did realize that he'd lost his son, he looked around and found Luke sitting in the shallows, gently nudging the seaweed around. Anakin slipped behind his daughter and gave a mighty shove of water at Obi-Wan to keep them busy while he checked on his son.

"Luke? Are you alright?"

Luke looked up from the slowly swishing plant. "Yeah, I guess."

Anakin sat down next to him, "Luke, something's bothering you. It doesn't take Force sensitivity to see that."

"I- Dad, it's just that there are so many things I meant to apologize for, and I can never think of all of them when I'm near you."

"Luke, I thought I'd told you. You have nothing to apologize for."

"Nothing you noticed, anyway," Luke mumbled starting to push at the seaweed again.

"Luke, compared to what I've done to you, I think you're fairly innocent."

"You… you don't know, though," Luke said.

Anakin wrapped one arm around his son and pulled the boy close, "Would you like to share any of your crimes?"

Luke sniffed, "It's like I said. I can't think of any when I'm near you."

Anakin nodded gently, "Why don't you go dry off. We can talk again when you feel ready. I'll distract the others and keep them focussed on their game."

Luke sniffed again, "That would be good."

Anakin did as he'd said he would, distracting Leia and Obi-Wan until he was finally able to convince them to go to town to pick up some groceries. Luke, meanwhile, dried himself off and sat down under a tree.

"Are you feeling better?"

"No. Dad, it's just… I annoyed you so much before, and now I don't seem to, and it just kind of worries me."

"Worries you?"

"Yeah. I keep thinking that maybe it's a trick. Maybe this is all just some kind of sick joke or something."

Anakin nodded, trying to understand. Luke threw himself against his father, and Anakin hugged him.

"And I worry that deep down you hate me. And then I worry that you're going to hurt Leia. I just want to feel safe!"

"Luke, with what you've been through, I'm sorry, but I don't know that you'll ever feel safe."

Luke gave a despairing sob.

"Shh, Luke. I didn't mean that quite the way it sounded. I love you, Son."

Luke sniffled again and looked up, "I'm also a little bit worried about tonight."

"Tonight? Why?"

Luke blushed, "When I'm upset, I've got into this habit… I crawl in with you. I started doing it back in your castle. I'd even do it when you were furious and hating me. Maybe even especially then. It's because in your sleep, you'd always hug me. No matter how cruel you'd been, if I crawled into bed next to you, because I needed to be near you, something in your brain must have told you to hug me, because you always did. And now I'm upset, and I think I might do that again."

Anakin hugged his son tighter, "Luke, if it makes you feel better, I don't mind holding you at night."

Luke nodded slowly, "Thanks. Can I stay with you tonight then?"

Anakin sighed, "Yes. Eventually you'll have to get out of this habit, though."

Luke nodded again, "I don't like it."

"Most children go through a phase like this."

"Really?"

"Yes. Just like this. It's usually when they're a bit younger, but you didn't really get the chance. Please, Luke, if you ever need to tell me anything, don't hesitate. I promise, I'll understand. Palpatine messed up your life, and we both know that. Maybe together we can get past it."

Luke sniffled again and nodded slowly, "That would be good. Daddy? I think I'm still not completely healed. Can I go to bed now?"

Anakin nodded, "I'll stay with you until you're asleep too, if you want."

Luke nodded, pressing his face against his father again, "Will you carry me?"

Anakin smiled, lifting his son gently, "This is all perfectly normal, Luke. You just need to catch up a bit."

"Leia's gonna tease me about this forever," Luke mumbled, pressing closer against his father.

"I'll make sure she doesn't. She has no right to mock you. She doesn't know what you've been through."

Luke nodded against his father's neck, "Thanks again."


	14. Chapter 14

Slowly, Luke learned not to run to his father's room at night. For a while, Leia was confused when she woke up to find her brother sleeping on the floor beside her bed, but she never questioned it, and eventually Luke realized she knew, and explained it.

Something about Luke's losing the habit made Anakin feel rather lonely. He'd liked knowing that Luke trusted him deeply enough to run to him, even with Luke's admitted fears. He knew, of course, that it was for the best. But that had just been a wonderful reminder that Luke's trust hadn't been completely shattered by how they had met.

As such, it came as a surprise when, in early fall, Anakin was shaken awake by a terrified looking Luke.

"Daddy! Wake up!" he shook his father's shoulders.

"Luke? What's wrong?" Anakin asked groggily.

Luke, who had rapidly gained strength physically as well as emotionally, yanked his father upright and ran to get his father's boots.

"Daddy, we have to leave. I don't know what's happening, but it's the end of the world!"

Anakin took the boots and put them beside himself, "What do you mean, Luke?"

"Please, Daddy, we really, really have to go," Luke sobbed, looking utterly panicked.

Anakin took his son's arms in his hands, holding him still, which usually comforted Luke, "Luke, son. What's happening out there?"

Luke wrenched himself away and ran to grab his father's traveling cloak, "The sky. Something's wrong with it. It's all dark, and something is pouring down. All the holy books talk about tribulation, and this is it, isn't it?" He threw the cloak on Anakin's bed and burst into tears.

Anakin pulled him close, "Everything's going to be okay."

"Not if we don't get going!" Luke wailed, "If we don't get moving, we'll all die here! I don't want to die anymore! I don't want you and Leia and Obi-Wan to die!"

Anakin flinched when his son said 'anymore', but tried to hide it, afraid that it would upset Luke further, "Luke, please, take a deep breath. Are you trying to say that there's water coming from the sky? Which is cloudy, and probably looks pretty sinisterly dark because it's still nighttime?"

Luke nodded shakily, "Yeah. All that, but there's more too! It keeps making awful crashing sounds, and light flashes!" Luke burst into tears again.

There was a flash of lightning, followed almost instantly by a roll of thunder. Luke screamed and started trying to rush his father through getting up once more. Vader gently rebuffed him, pushing him down on the bed.

"You're going to let us all die!" Luke shouted, "After everything we've all been through!"

"Luke. Everything's all right. This happens sometimes, it's called a thunderstorm. You arrived here in summer, which sometimes has these, but not too often. We haven't seen any yet. Have you woken any of the others?"

Luke kept sobbing, "I don't think so."

Anakin kissed his cheek, trying to comfort him, "It's not a tribulation. It's an annoyance at worst. Take a couple of deep breaths."

Luke shakily did as he was told.

"I've seen lots of thunderstorms. I've never known anyone who was killed in one. The safest place we could possibly be is right here."

Luke had stopped running around enough that Anakin was able to put his hand on his son's head, gently holding him still.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"But-but I saw it hit a tree. The tree burned!"

"Yes, Luke. Lightning can kill. But it won't reach us if we stay inside. If you were in a boat in the middle of the lake, this would be understandable. We're surrounded by trees taller than our house. We'll be all right. Sniff the air. You can't even smell burning. The tree was still alive, so it was too damp to really burn. If any embers jumped, the rain will have put them out by now."

Luke sniffled, slowly calming down, "How many thunderstorms have you seen?"

"Too many to count. You'll get used to them, I promise."

Luke pressed himself against his father, and Anakin held him close.

"They scare me."

"I know they do. Just stay calm. As long as you stay inside, there's nothing they can do to harm you."

Luke mumbled something unintelligible.

"I guess you'll have to learn a bit about weather. I'll teach you in the morning, okay?"

Luke nodded.

"Now Daddy's tired, and he needs to go to sleep."

Luke started to look frightened again, "Can't I stay with you?"

Anakin nodded, "You may stay as long as you wish. Lie down and I'll tuck you in."

Luke nodded, and crawled into his father's bed, allowing himself to be pampered. Anakin tucked him in, and then crawled in behind him. Almost immediately, thunder crashed and the room was lit momentarily by lightning. Luke whipped around and buried himself against his father's chest, crying once more.

Anakin held him close.

Each time lightning struck, Luke would sob and cling a little tighter to his father.

At last, Anakin gave up sleep and sat up. Luke, who was now potentially permanently affixed to his father's chest, was pulled up as well. As Anakin sat still, holding his child, stroking the boy's hair, and trying to convince him to release his father, there was another flash.

Luke had been staring catatonically at the window. When he saw the lightning, he screamed. Anakin expected it to be another short burst, but Luke sustained it. His scream dragged on and on, finally fading out, only for Luke to take a breath and scream again.

"Luke, what's wrong?" Anakin asked, worried.

Luke only screamed again.

Anakin carefully caught hold of his son's voice and temporarily silenced his son.

"Luke, what's wrong?" He released his hold on his son's voice, and Luke instantly took another deep breath, as though to scream again.

Anakin put his finger to his son's lips, and Luke didn't scream.

"Luke, this is bothering you too much. I know you've never encountered lightning before, but it's more than that, isn't it?"

Luke sniffed, tears streaming silently down his face, his eyes still transfixed on the window.

Anakin took his son's head and guided his range of vision back to his father's face, "What else is wrong, Son?"

Luke closed his innocent blue eyes, his entire body shaking, "It's just like it's always been," he mumbled.

"What do you mean?"

"When I can't see it, it crashes and lights up the room, just like they used to do to my cell to keep me from sleeping," Luke said in a very frightened voice. Miraculously, Luke's voice became even softer as he spoke the next words, "And when I can see it, it's just like he used to do to me."

The words didn't click immediately, "Like who used to do to you? How did they hurt you?"

Luke closed his eyes tighter, squeezing them shut as if trying to keep something away, "He would raise his hands like it was nothing and then… you called it lightning."

_He used Force lightning on my son!_ "Palpatine?"

"Yes!" Luke sobbed, "Always! Again and again and again! I'll never forget it! Not if I live forever! The pain was so terrible!"

Anakin rocked his son slowly, trying to comfort him.

"Remember how I said I saw the tree burn? He lit me on fire once too! He was just too angry, and he decided I wasn't reacting strongly enough, so he just kept shooting it at me. And the whole time, all I could think was that there was no-one in the galaxy who'd save me."

"Luke, I would've saved you if I'd known."

"I know," Luke whispered in a terrified voice, "But I didn't then. All I knew was that there was no-one in the galaxy who knew I existed beyond my torturer and my father who I thought didn't care. All I knew was that I couldn't hope for rescue. My only hope was death. Daddy, please, tell me it's not normal for a five-year-old to want death!"

Anakin shook his head, "I promise you. You were raised in the worst way possible. I know it's hard for you. I know it will go on being hard for you. But you have to understand that I'm always here for you, and your sister is always here for you, and Obi-Wan, for all his talk of Jedi not having children, is an excellent father figure."

Luke sniffled and nodded, "But I'm going to keep coming to you, if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind. I love you very much, Luke, and I'm honoured you trust me enough to care for you."

Luke smiled slightly.

"Now, I'm tired, and I'm sure that panicking has worn you out too. Would you like to just crawl back into bed, and I'll keep you safe?"

Luke sniffed a final time and crawled back into bed. Anakin didn't bother to tuck him in before crawling in behind him. Then he pulled the blanket up over both of them and waited for the thunder. Although Luke tensed when it came, he was able to roll over and cling to his father a little bit more slowly, and Anakin was able to hug him back without fear of being suffocated by his son's attempts to get closer, further into his father's protective bubble.


End file.
